


How to Show, How to Tell

by Bagginsbabe221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Bonding, Case Fic, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Homophobia, John is a Bit Not Good, John is a Very Good Doctor, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Murder Mystery, Oral Sex, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock Is Not Okay, Sherlock is Not a Virgin, encouraging Sherlock, hesitant John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bagginsbabe221b/pseuds/Bagginsbabe221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is stuck on a particularly hard case. John is busy not being busy while Sarah, his current girlfriend, is away on a business trip. Things go south, though, when Sherlock walks in on John masturbating in front of Sarah on the computer. Everything is awkward until Sherlock decides he doesn't understand why John likes dirty talking. Things progress from there and soon John and Sherlock have to decide how to move forward with the recent happenings, all while trying to figure out this case that Sherlock can't seem to crack. Lots of hotness, lots of awkwardness, and maybe just a little humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Slick Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. Just a quick tidbit. This is my first fanfic EVER, so I'm quite new to this. I've read a lot, but hopefully I'm getting things right. Enjoy!

John was sitting in his well-worn chair reading the paper when he heard the door click open. John might’ve thought it was Mrs. Hudson or a client, but there was no denying it was Sherlock when the door slammed and he skipped every other step while mumbling to himself. John didn’t glance up from his paper as Sherlock entered the room. 

“Two hands missing. All the evidence gone. There has to be more.” Sherlock continued to mumble as he flopped down on the couch. He sighed, loud enough to be unnatural, but John didn’t stir. He was still upset with Sherlock for leaving him in the middle of a lake during their last investigation. When John didn’t react, Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed even louder. He watched as John lifted his tea to his lips and slurped loudly. Finally, Sherlock sat up, stared at John, and let out an incredibly dramatic sigh that kept going until he couldn’t breathe. John calmly laid his paper down and turned towards Sherlock. 

“Yes, Sherlock? You sighed.” 

“I think you need hearing aids. You’re getting old.” John sighed himself.

“You’re impossible. What did you want with your sighing?”

“I’m frustrated. This investigation is getting nowhere.” 

“Well what’s going on?”

“You’d know if you came every once in a while.” John stood to get some more tea, but Sherlock was beginning to annoy him. This wasn’t new. 

“Excuse me for having to make money in order to survive.”

“Yes, well, we all have to make sacrifices.” John was about to reply, but he noticed a sly smile from Sherlock and decided to avoid the argument, at least for now.

“Okay, Sherlock, enlighten me. What’s so frustrating about the case?” Sherlock slumped further into the couch.

“It’s a double murder, at least right now, but the murderer always cuts off both hands as if to signify something. The bodies are wiped clean of all evidence and I couldn’t get a thing out of it. It would’ve been better if you wer…” Sherlock stopped myself and looked up at the ceiling. John’s eyes lit up at his silence and a large smile was forming.

“What was that, Sherlock?”

“Nothing.” 

“Did you say you actually needed me? There, at the crime scene?” Sherlock was fidgeting. 

“No, I said it would’ve been better if you were there.” 

“Uh huh,” was all John could say because he knew Sherlock wanted him around. He may not always need him all the time, but there was no doubt he wanted him. Sherlock didn’t respond anymore and was now laying the length of the couch, facing inward. John put his coat on and headed towards the door. Before he could leave, though, Sherlock turned around. 

“Going to Sarah’s?”

“No, actually she’s at a med conference in Dublin. I was gonna get take-away. Want anything?” Sherlock stood up and went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge to find several bagged thumbs. 

“The usual.” John nodded his head and headed out the door. 

*** 

John was laying on top of his bed staring at the ceiling. His computer was opened and turned on in front of him at the edge of his bed, but he wasn’t doing anything with it. After John had come back with take-away, he and Sherlock enjoyed an unusually quiet dinner with no snide remarks made by Sherlock and no fighting from John. The food was surprisingly fantastic and they were both beyond stuffed after that they both agreed to tuck in for the night early. Now, John had been motionless for over twenty minutes waiting for Sarah to contact him through webcam. He hadn’t seen her for over a week and desperately needed an outlet. His own personal attempts at relieving himself hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, either from interruption or boredom, so he figured the webcam was the next best thing. After another minute or two, John heard the familiar bing that meant someone invited him to talk. John was a little too quick to answer. 

“Sarah, thank goodness. How are you?” Sarah’s face popped onto the screen and John already started to feel the familiar rush of blood and knots in his stomach, not always from Sarah’s presence, but from the fact that he knew what was coming. Sarah smiled in her pixelated form and chuckled.

“Have you missed me?”

“More than you would think.” John laughed with more than enough tension for anyone even remotely intelligent to catch. 

“John, this is strictly a medical question, but when was the last time you masturbated?” Sarah tried to hold back a laugh, but John knew she was still concerned. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ve tried for the past week since you’ve been gone, but one way or another I couldn’t finish.” John gave Sarah a sheepish grin and Sarah responded with her lowering the straps on her nightgown. John’s breathing hitched and his hand automatically starting moving up his leg. 

“Would you like me to help tonight, John?” Sarah already knew the answer, but she wanted him to say it. John could already feel himself growing, the blood rushing down. He wanted it, needed it, badly. 

“God, yes.” With that, Sarah started moving her nightgown down further. John moved the computer to a better angle so he could situate himself. He didn’t want this to take long. By the time John was comfortable, Sarah had already taken off her nightgown and was touching herself in front of John. John let out a soft moan and started rubbing himself. 

“I know you want this. Take off your clothes. I want to see everything that you’re doing.” John’s hands were immediately on his shirt, unbuttoning it. It fell quickly to the floor and he started on his trousers. He fumbled a little but eventually go his trousers off, leaving only his pants. His length was only barely hidden by the thin pants he was wearing. Unlike Sherlock, he didn’t care to spend tons of money on his underwear. After removing everything but his pants, he turned toward the computer and waited for Sarah to give him instructions. He sometimes liked being told what to do. John always wanted to be in control, but since this wasn’t purely physical, he didn’t mind playing a little differently. He wanted Sarah to make him come. He liked the idea.

“Take off those pants. Do you think I came on this computer to see a tent?” Sarah laughed at John’s expression, but he did as he was told and shed the pants, exposing himself to a computer. He felt a little silly, never really doing sex over the computer, but at the same time it was exciting and different. John went straight for himself, stroking up and down and throwing his head back in pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck, yes. I’m not going to last long.” Sarah knew how John liked to be played with. She started talking dirty to get him closer. 

“I know you want me, but you’re going to have to suffer. That’s right, touch yourself. I want to see every movement, every expression and moan of pleasure.” Sarah continued to touch and rub herself as she edged John on. John was furiously stroking his cock, moaning without reserve and throwing his head back. It wasn’t the best situation, but he definitely didn’t mind the whole computer sex experience. Since he wasn’t able to masturbate for over the last week, he was getting closer and closer to finishing with every stroke. He now had his legs spread on either side of the computer, bent at the knee. He tried his best to use his left hand to keep himself balanced while he used his right for pleasure. John could only see Sarah from the waist up, but he guessed that she was enjoying herself as well. At least he hoped. 

“I know you’re close, my naughty soldier. Right now I’m picturing your cock in me, filling me. Can you picture that, John? Is it getting harder and harder to resist coming for me?”

“Uggh. Oh god. Fuck.” John was expertly handling himself, inching close to climax. He wanted to come, but he didn’t want to come prematurely until Sarah gave the okay. She must’ve caught on to his desperation, though, because she leaned into the computer enough so that John could clearly see her breasts and whispered,

“Come for me, John.” John’s back arched and his knees came even closer to his body. His body was slightly shaking until finally he released his tension with bursts of pleasure waving through him. His eyes were squeezed shut as he let out a loud moan.

“Ahh, Sherlock.” John’s eyes immediately flew open. Sarah was staring at John through the computer.

“Sherlock?” There was a click on John’s door and Sherlock walked through, not bothering to knock. John still had his hand on his slick cock and legs spread. When Sherlock glanced up he went silent and couldn’t take his eyes away from the situation. John tried to hide himself, but instead he accidently kicked the computer off the bed, flipped over, and fell onto the floor. The computer went black, but from the looks of it, Sarah had already logged off. As John laid on the floor half covered in sheets, he stared up at Sherlock with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. 

“Shit, Sherlock.”


	2. Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are both awkward after the night before. Well, maybe just John. Now Sherlock has to show off like he always does, and John doesn't like that too much. Things progress again and the result is a little sticky.

The next day Sherlock and John were called in to investigate another two-handed killing that quickly became closer to being considered serial killings. There hadn’t been much time for Sherlock to question John about the night before or what would’ve been John’s awkward explanations. John, of course, was relieved, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to avoid it forever. After the ordeal, Sherlock eventually snapped out of his daze, apologized, and quickly left John’s bedroom without another word. John, on the other hand was too embarrassed, angry, and nervous to do anything but clean up a little and go to bed. He had, after all, finished for the first time in a long time. Now, both Sherlock and John were trying to focus on the dead body lying in front of them and ignoring the usual hostility from Donovan. Lestrade usually kept her in line, but apparently today he was taking the day off. 

“You two are so quiet today, I can actually hear the birds chirping for once in my life.” Donovan was standing to the side, like she always did with an annoying smile on her face.

“The chirping noises are actually the sound of your already few brain cells continuously jumping off a cliff,” Sherlock muttered as he examined the handless, 31-year-old female on the ground. John was the only one in hearing distance and even though he was in a foul mood, he couldn’t help but laugh at Sherlock’s surprising remark, almost as if he cared what Donovan thought. Her smile quickly turned to an annoyed, angry look. She had no idea what Sherlock said, but she was fairly certain it wasn’t pleasant. Before she could say anything else, though, Sherlock jumped up and let out an annoyed moan. Lestrade was the first to question.

“What? What did you find?” Sherlock shut his tools and whipped around towards Lestrade. 

“That’s just it. Nothing. There is nothing left to scrape off this body. I can’t detect anything of significance except for the obvious. If this killer wants a game, he’s got a game.” Sherlock’s exasperated expression soon turned into an excited one when he realized that this case wasn’t simply a murder anymore. He was going to be playing a game, one that Sherlock was confident would lead to the killer in the end. With that, he began walking away from the crime scene, waving his arm back at John. 

“Come on John, we have things to do.” John followed Sherlock’s demands, much like he always did, but he dreaded whatever was to come next. The two fetched a cab and drove halfway home in relative silence. Once they arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock and John were arguing over something that started in the cab. John unlocked their door, but Sherlock wouldn’t stop talking.

“I just don’t understand how any of that is even remotely pleasurable.” John stayed in front of Sherlock, trying not to turn around and bonk him in the face. He was already embarrassed beyond belief from what happened last night, but now John couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

“That’s right, Sherlock, you don’t understand. You can’t do one of your annoying deductions on this because you don’t have the experience.” John nearly spat at him while climbing the stairs to their flat. Sherlock wrinkled his nose at John’s accusations.

“You have no idea what my experiences are, and besides, I know I’m right. I’ve been around many people who’ve found no pleasure in dirty talk, so therefore the statistics are available.” John rolled his eyes. He was a little surprised at Sherlock’s retaliation concerning his experience. After all, John knew very little of Sherlock’s past. He wouldn’t know, but he was fairly certain that Sherlock had no interest in pursuing any type of sexual relationship.

“You of all people should know that only a few statistics is not efficient enough to result in a strong argument.” John and Sherlock entered their flat and took their coats off. Sherlock had a sparkle in his eye as a result of John’s statement. He liked when John made heady deductions and observations, but he would never give John the satisfaction.

“I know what I’m talking about.” Sherlock’s jaw was locked. He stood taller in front of John, which he always hated. 

“Why are you so stubborn on this topic? This isn’t even important to you. It’s dirty talk. So what, you walked in on Sarah and I messing around. Is that the problem? You’re upset and embarrassed about walking in on me and now you’re trying to prove me wrong?” This wasn’t any normal Sherlock and John argument. There was tension between them that they had never felt before. Neither man was going to step down. 

“Prove it, then.” Sherlock’s shadow loomed over John. John stumbled, taken aback. He didn’t understand the statement. 

“W...what?” 

“Prove your point. Since you’re so set on actually proving me wrong, which is almost impossible, do it.”

“How in the bloody hell do I do that Sherlock?”

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be the expert, the doctor.”

“Yes, let me just pull out my volumes of Masters and Johnson while I’m at it.” John was throwing his arms around, confused and annoyed. There was a small smile on Sherlock’s face.

“We don’t have to be sarcastic, John. But in order for you to make your point, you have to prove it.”

“Okay, okay. I like it, obviously! And I’m only one in over seven billion.”

“Actually, it’s 7,392,341,500, approximately.” John turned away from Sherlock and his sarcastic comments. His face was turning red. 

“Dammit, Sherlock! Fine, I’ll prove you wrong. I have to.” John closed his eyes and took a few breaths. When he opened them, his pupils were dilated and his face was flushed. Sherlock tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t entirely ignore the pings in his lower stomach at this change in John. They were standing in the kitchen, but John slowly started herding Sherlock into the sitting room and against the wall in a corner. By now, Sherlock was thoroughly confused, but also oddly excited. 

“You think you’re so smart, my naughty detective. You might drive people crazy, but I can see past that reclusive behavior. I bet you crave every night to grab that huge cock of yours and jack off to disgusting thoughts.” John now had Sherlock locked in the corner. His arms held onto the wall on either side of Sherlock and even though John was shorter, Sherlock was slowly sliding down. His breath quickened. He had never really been exposed to dirty talk before, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. John didn’t stop.

“And you wanna know something, I want to be there when you are hard, throbbing, wanting, needing to release. I want to see you squirm and shiver in the cold winter nights, begging for help.” Sherlock had sharp butterflies running through his lower stomach and he could feel blood rushing to his groin. He was already hard, he couldn’t believe it. His body was reacting to this confrontation, to John. 

“When you couldn’t take it anymore, I’d take over and grab your slick cock in my hand with a little rough handling and begin slowly stroking it. Up, down.” At that, Sherlock let out an unreserved moan and threw his head back. He was strained against his expensive pair of pants and trousers. John smiled wickedly. He knew he had him. 

“You would be begging for release after I tease you for a while. I’m nice, so I give you want you want. With a quickening of my already slick hand, I expertly press and touch at all the right places. You are begging me to finish you, and with a grab of your balls, you finally release, sending your semen over both yourself and me.” By now, both John and Sherlock are breathing heavy. Without a warning, John leans in as close to Sherlock’s face as possible without touching and whispers, “and you would fucking love it.” Sherlock moans louder with his eyes closed and his body starts to shake. After a few seconds, Sherlock lets out some breath, pauses, and his eyes fly open. John smiles yet again, only phased on the inside, and steps away from Sherlock. Sherlock doesn’t move, obviously in discomfort.

“How was that?” John said, pleased with himself. He went into the kitchen like nothing was wrong, but Sherlock refrained from moving. 

“I…it’s…yes.” John had never seen Sherlock in a compromising position, always acting like nothing could touch him. John knew he was right this time. 

“Bloody, Sherlock, just sit down and I’ll get you some tea. As long as you admit that I was right.” Sherlock still didn’t move. He lightly grazed his now flat trousers.

“I…can’t. I can’t move.” Sherlock’s cheeks flushed. John was amazed. He watched Sherlock in wonder. It was fascinating.

“Why? Sherlock, if you’re going to try and say that I was wrong, I swear I’ll…” Sherlock interrupted him. 

“No! John, I can’t move because…I have to…I need to clean myself.” It took John a few seconds but he finally realized what happened. 

“Oh.” John glanced at the floor, trying not to be awkward. He had to think of something to say. “It’s not unusual, Sherlock. I’m a doctor, this sort of thing happens all the time.”

“I know when you’re lying John.” Sherlock kicked himself out from against the wall and walked past John as quickly as he could. If it was anyone else, Sherlock’s walk would have seemed normal, but John knew every inch of Sherlock and there was a slight waddle to his step as he headed towards the bathroom. John sighed and flopped down onto the sofa, rubbing his forehead with his left hand and nonchalantly pushing his other hand down over his groin. He still had an erection that Sherlock hadn’t noticed. Was it because of the words, the reaction, or was it because of Sherlock. John hadn’t the slightest idea. Well, he might have had a slight idea, but he wasn’t yet ready to embrace it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And onward to chapter 3, coming soon! I am really enjoying writing this and I hope all of you are too! Stick around for more!


	3. Ruined Eggs and Laughing Fits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are trying to avoid each other for as long as possible, but that always comes to an end. Once John realizes that he really can't stay away any longer, it's up to Sherlock to show him how much he's been missing. Of course, things go a little south after their confrontation. There are ruined eggs and laughing fits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went a little different than expected, but either way, I hope you enjoy! Things are progressing a little further each time!

For the next couple days, John and Sherlock tried their best avoiding each other. It wasn’t so much that Sherlock was embarrassed about the situation, but he didn’t want to admit to John that he had, in fact, been wrong about the pleasure of dirty talk. If there was one thing that Sherlock hated the most, it was being wrong, especially being wrong about John. He knew his intelligence outweighed everyone else’s around him, including John, but he was different around him. He found that he liked when John praised him on his various deductions and observations. Sometimes it even gave him motivation to try harder, just to show off a little more in front of him.

But right now John wasn’t around and Sherlock was getting fed up with this two-hands-missing case. He was sitting on the sofa, much like he always did when either bored or annoyed, and tried to do as much research as possible into links between the two hand murders and others. He found it odd in the beginning that both hands were missing from every victim, but he soon caught on. He knew the killer wasn’t stupid. He wanted Sherlock to start digging into the case. Much like you would like John to dig into you? Sherlock smacked himself in his head, trying to rid himself of that ridiculous thought. Sherlock moaned and threw himself back, letting himself sink into the sofa. All Sherlock could think of recently was John backing him in a corner and going to town on his brain. After all, it was the brain that Sherlock found most fascinating. He was never much into sexual relations, aside from the occasional necessary personal release, but he had also never thought of John as particularly strategic at anything. Not that Sherlock thought he was incompetent. On the contrary, Sherlock saw him as brave, humorous, and beautiful, but like everyone else in this mortal world, John didn’t strive for his full potential. No one did. 

As Sherlock delve into his own, sometimes annoying brain, the door clicked and John walked through with a few grocery bags. He evidently had not seen Sherlock slouched on the sofa because when Sherlock jumped up dramatically, John threw himself against the wall, dropping most of his groceries. Sherlock flashed a wide smile at him.

“Sorry about that. Did you make sure to get that tea I prefer?” John glanced around at all the bags and laid his head against the wall, letting his heart rate lower.

“Bugger, Sherlock. I bet the eggs are ruined.”

“Yes, but did you get the tea?”

“Yes, Sherlock! Yes, I did!” John threw his hands up in the air and stepped over the groceries, not bothering to pick them up. Sherlock faked confusion. 

“Well, we don’t need to get angry.” John laughed at that as he sank into his chair. He picked up the newspaper and began reading. Sherlock did the same but browsed on John’s laptop sitting on the table. Neither got up to make sure all the groceries were put away. After a few minutes, John started to laugh. He had had an impossible day and the groceries were a tipping point. At first Sherlock thought he was going crazy, but eventually joined John in his laughing fits. Both Sherlock and John were laughing hysterically, falling onto the floor and trying to catch their breath. Once they calmed down, they sat against the bottom of the sofa, breathing heavy from lack of airflow. Sherlock glanced at John, looking over everything that he observed about him every day they were together. He always told John to observe, not only look. He never realized, though, that there was so much more to John that Sherlock originally thought. His trousers seemed tighter than usual, but Sherlock wasn’t sure if it was because he was gaining a little weight, or because he might’ve bought new ones. In any case, Sherlock couldn’t deny the fact that he quite enjoyed them. Much more his style. John’s casual button down shirt was two buttons open at the top, probably because he took off his tie at some point before coming home, Sherlock thought. He could see hair slightly sticking up out of the shirt. Wouldn’t you like to touch that, touch his whole chest? Sherlock furrowed his brow. These constant thoughts really were unnerving and distracting. He couldn’t help it, though. John’s face was flushed from the laughing and his eyes were glossed over. 

Without thinking, Sherlock lifted his hand and lightly cupped John’s cheek. John sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn’t push away. He was too focused on Sherlock’s piercing, beautiful eyes. Sherlock proceeded by rubbing his thumb across John’s cheek and lips. What beautiful lips you have, John. I’d love to… Sherlock was thinking a lot of things, but he was definitely not consciously thinking about his actions when he leaned forward and planted his lips on John’s. Heat rushed into both Sherlock’s and John’s mouths. Neither man was thinking about what was happening at first. Sherlock lead the kiss, slowly sucking and pushing open John’s in order to explore further. John reacted well, welcoming Sherlock, even grabbing his hair once things started to progress. Eventually, Sherlock found himself straddling John on the floor, holding his arms on either side of his face, passionately kissing on and around John’s lips and face. They broke apart, enough so that both could catch their breaths. 

Sherlock and John stared at each other, breathing heavy. Sherlock noticed that there was a fear in John’s eyes. Almost like a child hiding from a monster in a closet. He looked lost. Sherlock wanted to sooth his fears, take him away from this place and show him what he could to do to help him, but he couldn’t get himself to move. 

“I…” Sherlock was interrupted by a phone ringing. “Lestrade.” Sherlock knew if it was his phone there was no other person, besides John and Lestrade that would care to call. Even though he wanted so desperately to continue with John, he needed every chance he could get with this two-handed case. He jumped up off John in an awkward yet graceful manner, leaving John with an erection fully visible through his trousers. After the third ring, Sherlock answered.

“Yes? What do you have?” It was, in fact, Lestrade. 

“You’ll want to see this.” There was a slight smile on Sherlock’s face. John lifted himself onto his elbows, trying to see what Sherlock was doing. 

“Where are you?”

“At the corner of Cramer and St. Vincent.” 

“We’ll be there.” Sherlock hung up and glanced over at John. John had stood and was trying to fix himself. He had no idea how to proceed from this.

“Maybe…you should go ahead without me. I…have to get those groceries off the floor.” John said, cheeks still flushed and breathing heavy. Sherlock was just as torn, but he wasn’t about to let a little passionate kissing get in the way of this case…especially this case. Of course, John saw himself as heterosexual, but he had no idea what he was talking about. There was one thing for certain, and that was Sherlock knew John had enjoyed the kissing. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Sherlock had to open John’s reluctant eyes to his desires. 

***

On the cab ride over to the crime scene, things hadn’t gotten better between Sherlock and John. John had been fidgeting with nothing particular, trying to keep his eyes off of Sherlock and Sherlock had, like always, noticed the discomfort radiating for him. 

“Oh, for god’s sake, just let it out.” Sherlock said, staring at John with his piercing eyes. John snapped his head back at Sherlock, bewildered at his confrontation.

“I’ve nothing to say, Sherlock. It was nothing, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Yes, you do, John. For once you let your instincts take over and now you’re upset that you’ve realized you might be bise…”

“Oh dear god, don’t say that. You’re wrong. I’m not bisexual or gay. I love women. I love breasts and soft skin and…vaginas.” Sherlock subtly flinched at that last statement. He wanted to laugh, but he thought better of it. 

“How do you explain your reaction to my kiss, then? You never pushed me away.”

“How about we talk about you instead, Sherlock.” 

“Okay, what shall we discuss?” Sherlock said, drumming his fingers against the side of the door while staring, unnervingly, at John. 

“Let’s start with your sexual identity. We’ve never talked about it, one because it’s personal, and two because I figured you weren’t interested, but obviously I was wrong.”

“Quite right, John. You have been wrong about me on many occasions, but I guess that’s to be expected.” John’s face was turning red quickly. He wasn’t in the mood to be told he was always wrong. 

“So, what is it?”

“What is what, John?”

“Jesus, Sherlock, your sexuality!” John said that a little louder than intended, making the cabbie slightly turn his head. Now John was both angry and embarrassed. Sherlock smirked like he always did when he wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“Oh John, that can be discussed at a later date. Besides, we have arrived.” The cab stopped and Sherlock opened his door. John took two deep breaths to calm himself down before climbing out after his aggravating yet fascinating friend.


	4. A Break in the Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is angry with Sherlock while they are examining yet another dead body with no hands. Things get interesting when Lestrade asks John to examine the body. In a huge twist of things, John is the one that notices clues that lead to a crazy discovery that will soon change the case that Sherlock was once stuck on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, not smut in this chapter! This chapter is very important, though, and will lead into more relationship stuff between John and Sherlock. Prepare for some serious events in the future!

“What about Sarah?” Sherlock was currently standing over the body of a forty-two year old red-headed banker who had recently separated from his wife- not his choice- and had fallen to drinking and selling drugs on the streets. At least, that’s all of what Sherlock concluded in the five minutes that he and John had been at the crime scene. Now, Lestrade, Donovan, and Stamford were huddled around each other whispering furiously about the case and how difficult it had gotten. Sherlock was displeased, but he knew sooner or later he would crack the case. They left Sherlock and John standing relatively close to one another, although John was in a dreadful mood and had no inclination to talk to Sherlock. Nevertheless, he succumbed to Sherlock’s question.

“What?” John was still awkward and embarrassed about this morning. Sherlock didn’t glance up when he clarified himself. 

“Sarah. You haven’t talked to her since the masturbating fiasco and I highly doubt she would be happy about you shagging your flat…”

“Sherlock!” John hissed, “We didn’t shag and actually, I have talked to her.”

“Oh, and what did she have to say?” John hesitated to answer his question. He’d been through so many compromising situations in his life, but he never thought he would have to deal with something like this. He wanted desperately to tell Sarah, tell everyone that once and for all Sherlock and he were not a couple. They weren’t gay (at least not John), they weren’t shagging, and they weren’t seeing each other on any level except friendship. Of course, John thought this was true three days ago, but now he wasn’t so sure. As much as he wished to be erased from this whole situation, deep down he wanted to see where it would go. Sherlock was obviously entertained by the prospect, but John was scared. He would never tell Sherlock that. Hell, he wouldn’t tell him a lot of things. Damn intelligent, unemotional bastard. John kicked a pebble, trying to bring himself back to the present.

“She said that…she never wanted to see me again.” John glanced up into the sky as if trying to remember word for word what she said. “That she ‘couldn’t believe I would ever turn into a prick and cock-lover, especially with a freak like Sherlock.’” John tried his best to quote Sarah, but saying the words out loud stung him somewhere deep down. At the time, he denied everything she accused him of. Besides, even if he was gay, what gave her the right to call him out for it, in such nasty terms nonetheless. He was angry, then, now. Sherlock seemed to have the same reaction, minus the anger. Sherlock very rarely spent his precious emotions on anger.

“Quite harsh, if I do say so myself. However true it might be.” Sherlock was playing a small game with John now. He wanted John to realize his true self, but Sherlock wasn’t the best at feelings. Rather, he liked playing games. 

“Sherlock, shit, you are so frustrating.”

“I take pride in that.” Both John and Sherlock smiled. After getting that off his back, John’s mood had risen a little, although he was still annoyed with Sherlock. He didn’t want to have to explain anything or talk anything over. He wanted to forget about what happened in the living room. He wanted to stop thinking about Sherlock’s soft yet firm kisses on his lips, over his jaw, and down his neck. He had to quit remembering the sensation of Sherlock straddling him on the ground, holding him down like…

“John!” Lestrade had interrupted his apparent daydream. 

“Yes, wh…what?” 

“I was saying that I think you should examine the body. We think Sherlock, here, is losing whatever crazy magic touch he might have on investigation because he cannot seem to get these series of murders figured out. Is there anything you can do?” John nodded, trying to steady himself and walked over to the body. He leaned down and started inspecting, trying to bide his time because he knew he wouldn’t find anything. 

He noticed a few things. The man had two distinct bruises running down from right under his neck to the top of his chest. They were perfect circles, as if the killer used a particular tool to mark them. He also noticed that one side of the man’s face was cleanly shaven, while the other had a slight shadow, as if he only shaved one side recently and left the other to grow, or at least didn’t have time to shave the other side. John was perplexed. Sherlock had schooled John on the importance of observation and deduction and even though John knew he had gotten better, he wasn’t Sherlock. No one was.

John glanced up at Lestrade. “Was this man concluded to have been killed after leaving his house?”

“No, actually, we ran everything on this man while you were dreaming over there and found out that he had been kicked out of his flat a week ago and was living on the streets. Why?” Lestrade glanced at John and then at Sherlock. John glanced at Sherlock. Sherlock’s eyes were narrowed at John. His head was tilted slightly and his lips unintentionally pursed. 

“This man’s beard. His left side is cleanly shaven but his right has a slight shadow. If he had been living on the streets, how would he have access, or even care, to shave? Let alone, have them uneven?” Sherlock jumped forward slightly in excitement and grabbed John to pull him up. 

“Oh, John, I could just kiss you, you’re brilliant.” Everyone stopped dead in their tracks at his un-Sherlock statement, including John. Ever since John and Sherlock began living together, there had been rumors, but never proof. This was far from proof, but it gave people hope. Well, it gave John hope even if he didn’t want to accept it. It gave everyone else yet another thing to question and comment about behind their backs. Sherlock noticed everyone’s reaction and stepped back, smoothing himself. “Yes, well, of course figuratively.” Lestrade cut in.

“What are you getting at, Sherlock?”

“A lead. John has given us a lead!”

“Sherlock, that’s not much to go off of. I mean yes, it might determine that he was shaven by the murderer, but nothing else.” Lestrade said, skeptical. Sherlock stopped and thought about it. For once in their lives, Sherlock thought Lestrade might have been right. Even though he found it quite arousing that John had been observant, he was grasping at straws. So, Sherlock reserved himself back against the wall and John proceeded to examine the body. There was an awkward tension surrounding everyone, but no one wanted to admit it. 

John thought he was getting somewhere, but when he returned to the body, he had almost forgotten about the bruises. To get a better look, he used his gloved hands to lightly unbutton and pull back the dead man’s shirt. To John’s gruesome surprise, there were more bruises leading in a line down the middle of the man’s chest. John started furiously unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. 

“John, what is it? What have you found?” Sherlock and Lestrade were standing directly behind him. After John had unbuttoned everything, he slowly pulled aside the shirt to reveal an uppercase “M” spelled out in perfect little bruised circles. 

“An M? What does that mean?” Lestrade scratched his head, so useless sometimes. John knew exactly what it meant and he was certain that Sherlock had caught on the moment he saw the letter. John stood and turned toward Sherlock. Sherlock had gone whiter than his usual beautiful pale self. He opened up his fear to John, but it had vanished as quickly as it had come.

“Well, is someone going to fill me in, or does anyone have a clue?” John glanced at Sherlock and Sherlock glanced at John. As if John gave an executive order, Sherlock turned toward Lestrade and gave him a one word answer.

“Moriarty.”


	5. Sherlock's Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the discovery of the return of Moriarty, Sherlock and John are both shocked. When they get home, though, Sherlock can't help but seduce John into helping him relieve himself. John is a little hesitant and nervous, but he soon finds out that being with Sherlock is nothing short of amazing and mind blowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter was a long one, but I really do love it. Technically the first chapter almost completely built upon the relationship of Sherlock and John. They are a funny couple, aren't they? Enjoy!

On the cab ride home after the discovery of Moriarty, both Sherlock and John were particularly quiet. They were, of course, both thinking about Moriarty’s return, but John was thinking of so many other things. As much as he wanted to forget, all he had thought about up until the discovery of the “M” was Sherlock. He felt like he was splitting in two. Could he really be gay? Bisexual? He thought back in his past years at any other times when he might have questioned his sexuality. Nothing came up. Then he thought maybe he was having a midlife sexuality crisis. How incredibly pathetic, he thought. 

On the other hand, though, why was he so scared of the possibility of being gay? It was, in fact, legal now. And everyone seemed to look at you in an almost apologetic way. Maybe he’d like that. John slapped himself on the forehead for that last thought. He knew he was being inconsiderate. Sherlock shifted his head ever so slightly when John slapped himself. His brow was furrowed. John had never noticed before just how much Sherlock’s brow furrowed. In any other situation, it meant confusion or being in a state of thought, and John rather liked the idea of Sherlock confused. It made him feel like he was in power. He liked being in power. Without much warning, John felt himself tingling in his groin area. He was caught off guard and jerked himself down. Of course, Sherlock witnessed this and laughed lightly. 

“Stop laughing.” John’s face flushed. Sherlock didn’t respond, except for placing his hand on John’s lower thigh. John’s cock responded quite enthusiastically, but he wasn’t prepared for this. He needed to slow things down. “Sherlock, we need to talk about this. I don’t even know what…this is.” Sherlock frowned and replaced his hand on his own thigh.

“Okay, but I don’t know why you’re trying to fight yourself.” 

“I’m not, I just need to figure out what’s going on. Plus, we have the whole Moriarty situation now. It’s too much.” John could tell Sherlock was disappointed. Jesus, where had this new Sherlock come from? What happened to the real, unemotional Sherlock? John was puzzled, but he wasn’t going to complain. Obviously, it was for the better. 

When they arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock followed John up the stairs. John was going slow on purpose, trying to buy time so he wouldn’t have to discuss this, but he knew the end was near. Once they walked through the threshold of their flat, though, John didn’t have time to do anything when Sherlock immediately pushed him up against the wall and began kissing him. John didn’t know what to do. He had spikes of pleasure running through both his lower stomach and his cock, but he also knew he wasn’t thinking straight. Damn Sherlock. He knew what he was doing. Sherlock moved from John’s mouth to his jawbone and down to his neck. John moaning loudly. 

“Sherlock, Oh god, Sherlock, you have to stop. We need to…oh…need to talk.” It was no use. Sherlock was apparently an expert and just three days ago John thought he was asexual, uninterested in sexual relationships. Sherlock stopped kissing him and started running his hands over John’s body. John could feel his erection growing. 

“You want to know something John?”

“Hmm?” 

“After discovering something new on a particularly hard case, I always like to relieve myself of all my unwanted thoughts and memories. But this time…this time you discovered something new. And do you know how hot that is? You are so incredibly smart, John.” Sherlock was practically hissing through his teeth. John let out a long moan in agreement. He couldn’t think straight as Sherlock began rubbing against John’s length through is trousers. “So please, John, will you help me relieve myself?” John only had so much rational thought inside of him at the moment, but he somehow found words.

“I…I’ve never…” Sherlock interrupted him with his finger to his mouth. 

“I will teach you. I know you want this. I saw how you reacted to me straddling you this morning.” All John could do was nod his head in agreement. That was enough for Sherlock, though, and they rushed upstairs to Sherlock’s room.

John had never really been in Sherlock’s room before. Yes, he’d gone in there to wake him up or take care of him when he was sick, but never actually paid attention to his surroundings. Observe, John. He could hear Sherlock’s voice in his head. The room was relatively minimalistic, save the hundreds of pictures scattering one wall, no doubt his various “in progress” cases. John didn’t have much time to observe, though, because Sherlock started barking orders. 

“Take all your clothes off except for your pants. Then lie on my bed on top of the sheets.” John laughed a little.

“Funny, I thought I was the soldier.” Sherlock gave John a sly smile. 

“Not when you’re in my room.” John’s cock twitched in agreement to Sherlock’s statement. As he undressed, though, he began to really understand what was happening here. His face fell from humor to worry and his hands started to tremble. Sherlock noticed, of course, and walked over to John to hold onto his arms.

“John, I promise that we won’t do anything you don’t want to do. If I’m to have you, I’m not going to ruin it by pushing your limits. At least not yet.” Sherlock smiled, but this time it was kind and caring. John had never really seen a smile quite like it on Sherlock’s face. He yearned to kiss him, delicately, but he had no idea how.

“I just…I don’t know what to do.” John’s eyes stared up into Sherlock’s. He was giving so much trust to someone. He wasn’t used to it. Normally, he had the control, but after thinking about it, he concluded that if it was going to be anyone, it would have to be Sherlock. He would give his life for Sherlock, whether in friendship or relationship. Sherlock kissed John softly in response to John’s hesitation. When they had kissed before, there was so much adrenaline, so much testosterone running through them. This was different, though. It was slow, sensual. Sherlock led the almost naked John to the bed where he gently pushed him so that John landed in the middle. Then Sherlock began unbuttoning his crisp button down shirt. Agonizing, John watched, craving for more. He knew what Sherlock was doing. It was working. 

After Sherlock had striped everything except his pants, he climbed onto the bed, lying on his side beside John. John had no idea how to start. He wanted to think of Sherlock as a woman, but there was no way to move forward. Besides, he thought, it would be an insult to compare Sherlock to a woman. He was so much more than that, than a man even. Not thinking, John began lightly tracing his fingertips down Sherlock’s chest, running over his hair and outlines of abs. He responded positively, letting his head fall back and moaning softly. John wanted so much more. It wasn’t that Sherlock had pressured him, John saw that now. Everything was calm and John still wanted it. At least, John’s cock wanted it. When he finished his tracing, he bent forward and kissed the middle of his chest. Sherlock sat forward and grabbed both sides of John’s face, kissing him again, but this time much more animalistic. 

“I want you to make me come, John. I’ve wanted it for so long,” Sherlock said, breathing heavily. John was so hard, he didn’t know if he was thinking with his brain anymore.  
“Yes,” was all John was able to get out. But Sherlock stopped. He sat back to examine John, concern on his face. 

“I have very particular needs, John. If at any point you don’t feel comfortable, I want you to stop, do you understand?” John had never witnessed this Sherlock. He wanted to do something, hug him, smack him, he wasn’t sure. 

“Yes, I understand. Consent, yadda yadda.” John smiled, but Sherlock didn’t budge. 

“I’m serious, John. You have no idea.” Sherlock said, staring into John’s eyes. John was confused. He was about to question Sherlock, but Sherlock waved his hand as if it wasn’t important. “For another time. Another conversation.” Without any warning, Sherlock grabbed John’s throbbing cock and began feeling, everywhere. 

“Oh shit, Sherlock.”

“Please, no cursing. It turns me off.” John laughed anxiously.

“Yes, sir.” John didn’t know how, but Sherlock was making him feel incredible. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been given an exceptional blow job. Maybe it was because it was coming from a man. Or maybe it was because it was coming from Sherlock. John didn’t know, nor did he want to think about it at the moment. 

While Sherlock pleasured John, something started boiling inside of him. He thought at first it was an orgasm, but soon realized it wasn’t that at all. John couldn’t explain it, but after moaning loudly after a particularly good stroke of Sherlock’s long, slender fingers, John pushed him back against the pillows and straddled him. Sherlock’s expression of surprise made the act even more tantalizing, even though John had no idea what he was doing. He immediately went for Sherlock’s cock in his hand and began stroking up and down. 

“Oh god, John. Yes.” Sherlock threw his head back and closed his eyes. John loved the reaction he was getting from his flat mate. He blindly began twisting and pulling and all around experimenting with Sherlock’s length. He tried to imitate what he loved when women went down on him or gave him a quick hand job, but he never quite paid enough attention, never thinking he’d actually be doing this at some point in his life. To be honest, though, John was incredibly turned on by everything Sherlock. He was fascinated by his penis, proudly standing up, yearning for John’s touch. John felt accomplished. Sherlock was writhing underneath his touch. 

“Use your finger, John. I need to come. I need you inside me.” Sherlock was breathing heavy. John noticed a shimmer of sweat covering his forehead. Fuck, it was hot. But John hadn’t registered what Sherlock had said. “John. Finger. Now.” Instantly, John felt anxious. He didn’t know how to do this. Well actually, he knew exactly how to do it, but those instances were strictly medical.

“I…we don’t have any lube, Sherlock.” John watched as Sherlock pointed to the bedside table. 

“In the drawer. The white tube. Quickly.” John did as Sherlock said and applied a generous amount of lube to his fingers. Unfortunately, his hands were shaking. “John, relax. It’s just fingers. Are you okay with this?” John nodded, finding something humorous about the fact that he was talking to a naked Sherlock while straddling him. 

John kept stroking Sherlock as he began massaging around his entrance. He wanted to make sure that Sherlock was completely relaxed. To John’s surprise, though, Sherlock was already fairly relaxed and open. So, he slipped in, slowly at first. Sherlock let out a long moan, slightly shaking. 

“Yes, yes, oh yes. Deeper.” John did as he was told. He found that his heart rate was rising. He was excited. As he inched further into Sherlock, he could feel the warmth of him, the tightness surrounding his finger. Of course, John knew where the prostate was. He had felt too many to care to mention. But this was different, so incredibly different. Eventually John lightly grazed Sherlock’s prostate. Even if John hadn’t know where it was, Sherlock would have confirmed his confusion. 

“Oh god! Yessss. John, keep doing that. I’m not going to last long.” Sherlock was hissing through gritted teeth. John had to concentrate on his multitasking, stroking Sherlock’s throbbing cock and rubbing his prostate. He also had to make sure not to come himself. Just seeing Sherlock in a state of exposure and fullness made John want to come all over him. With a few last strong and swift strokes and a firmer rub of his prostate, John felt Sherlock tense up, arching his back and letting loose. 

“Ahh, John! Ohh.” Sherlock’s orgasm was one that John had never witnessed before. It was the single most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Cum shot everywhere, but mostly over Sherlock’s stomach. It was a little weird for John, but his horniness and adrenaline knocked that thought right out of his head. After a few seconds more, Sherlock relaxed and lay there, breathing heavy. John was breathing just as heavy. 

“That was amazing.” John smiled down at Sherlock. In response, Sherlock sat up and began kissing John’s neck and chest. John was able to control himself from coming when Sherlock did, but he had been on the edge for so long, he didn’t know what would make him crack. 

“Of course, I have to return the favor,” Sherlock whispered, staring up at him. John was so hard he was aching. He wanted to make this last, but he also wanted to release.

“Sherlock, I don’t want to rush this, but I don’t know how long I will last.”

“Oh, don’t worry love. We have plenty time to take our time in the future.” Just at that, John moaned and laid back against the bed. Sherlock started fondling John in a way that he had never felt before. He wondered why it had taken him so long to understand that, of course, a man would be an expert at pleasuring a penis. John could already feel the pressure of release coming. 

“I won’t last, Jesus, Sherlock. Ohhh.” Sherlock took a quick break to cover one of his fingers with lube. John had seen and he immediately tensed up.

“John, you have to relax for this to work. Breath,” Sherlock said, circling John’s entrance. He tried his best to relax. At some point, he must have succeeded because he suddenly felt a slick finger slowly enter him. 

“Oh, fuc…god. That’s…good.” Sherlock smiled at John. John was perplexed. He couldn’t think of anything but Sherlock and everything that was perfect about him. John was hit with an extreme shot of pleasure, though, like he was hit by a wall of bricks. His back arched and his long moan was louder than he had intended. He had always been able to tell when he was about to come, but he wasn’t paying attention. First there was this shot of pleasure and then without warning there was a blinding orgasm that followed. He couldn’t even recall what he did. All he could feel were shots of cum landing on his stomach and chest, heavy breaths, and eventually Sherlock who came to lay beside him. 

“How was that?” Sherlock gave John a few seconds to gain his composure. 

“I…well…why have I never felt like that before?” Sherlock lightly laughed at John. 

“Because you have never been with me.” He winked at John. John’s heart ached. He couldn’t believe he was doing this with Sherlock. He didn’t even want to think about the past. All he wanted was Sherlock.


	6. Knocking and Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wants to talk about everything, but it's John and he doesn't know how to. They get called to an ordinary crime scene where John can't stop thinking about taking Sherlock home and doing nasty things to him. After they barely make it back, though, they quickly realize that they are never going to be able to enjoy themselves. Why? Read and find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really never know where these chapters are going to take me! This is a good mix of smut and fluff, so I hope you enjoy! Don't worry though, danger is on the horizon.

“So…” John was lying behind Sherlock, coming down from his sex high. Sherlock turned to stare at him. 

“So, what?” John couldn’t help but admire his strikingly pale blue eyes and their magnificent spots of green and brown throughout. He had never seen eyes more daring, more haunting. He hadn’t had much time to think about anything but Sherlock, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to talk things over. It was something neither he nor Sherlock was particularly good at.

“Where did all this come from, Sherlock? I can’t even wrap my head around what we are…were doing.” Sherlock chuckled. 

“Of course you can’t John. It’s not that you’re nervous or embarrassed. On the contrary, you’re fascinated. You want to explore this further, dig deeper.” Sherlock winked at John, which in turn got a smile out of him. John wasn’t completely satisfied, though. He had so many questions. 

“How do you know everything I want? Everything about me?” It was a stupid question, but John didn’t want anything to change. He knew this couldn’t last, could it?

“I don’t know why you ask these questions, John. You are perfectly capable of understanding how I know all of these things.”

“Okay, let’s move onto an important question, then, shall we?”

“Certainly.” John swallowed loudly. He didn’t know what he was doing. 

“Early, we were about to discuss your…sexuality. It’s obvious now that I was wrong about certain things, but I’m intrigued. Can you explain to me how and why you are who you are? Sexual wise, of course.” Sherlock scooted a little closer to John and kissed him on his nose. John’s stomach flipped. 

“Oh John, it’s not as interesting as you might think. I am a human, contrary to what many people might think, and I have needs. Of course, my needs are very particular and I am not easily affected by affection. I am very much aroused by a great mind, which is most likely not a surprise to you. And therefore, I have only had a select few partners in my life.” John watched as Sherlock spoke about what must have been incredibly hard for him. He saw a pained expression on Sherlock’s face, as though he was remembering a suppressed memory. Rage suddenly filled John. He thought it must’ve been an old partner. Was he (or she?) abusive? Did they break his heart? Whatever it was, John wasn’t going to tolerate it. 

“Sherlock, what happened?” John’s tone came off a little too strained, but Sherlock didn’t show any sign of recognition. 

“It doesn’t matter, now, John. Look at what we’ve done. You must hate me for dragging you into this.” Sherlock began to stand and gather everything. John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Don’t be daft. Of course I loved what we just did. I’m completely and utterly shocked, but there has been nothing I’ve done that was better than that.” John was standing now, pointing at the destroyed bed. He smiled, not sure what kind of atmosphere was engulfing the two. Sherlock looked like a frightened child. Why was John the one trying to comfort him? What was going on?

“John, I…” Before Sherlock was able to finish his sentence, his phone started buzzing. He grabbed it out of his jacket pocket and immediately answered it. 

“Lestrade? Yes. Moriarty? No. Yes, we will be there in ten minutes.” He hung up and flung his phone onto the bed. John was waiting for an explanation. He had heard Sherlock mention Moriarty and just hearing the name made him shiver. 

“Well, what is it?”

“Just an average crime scene. Well, average for us. I thought it might’ve been about Moriarty, but I was…wrong apparently.” John laughed at Sherlock’s resentment for his explanation, but in any case they both washed up, threw on new clothes, and rushed out the door, not giving either man time to really think about what had just happened and what was to come next.

***

John leaned against the brick exterior of the building and watched Sherlock pick apart the details of the body lying in front of him. He had accompanied his detective friend to so many different crimes scenes; robberies, kidnappings, murders, even stolen identities, but John had never actually stopped to witness the genius that was Sherlock Holmes. He watched as Sherlock’s slender body twisted and moved around the victim, occasionally jutting his butt in the air or straddling it for better views. John wanted to laugh at the ridiculous positons Sherlock put himself in, but at the same time her could clearly feel his half erection pushing against his trousers. John praised himself for actually putting on a light jacket today, easily being able to hide his arousal. 

It was ridiculous, he thought, to have this much attraction while watching a man examine a dead body. In a way, it was quite disturbing. In the end, though, John shoved it off as leftover arousal from earlier that day. In any case, he continued to daydream in front of everyone, acutely aware that no one had a clue. After a few more minutes of poking and prodding, Sherlock jumped up from the body and straightened his oh-so-sacred coat. He addressed Lestrade. 

“Hit and run,” He said in that seductive, I-know-everything tone that John could both love and hate, depending on the situation. Lestrade glanced down at the body and back at Sherlock. He rolled his eyes and straightened his hand out, as if to encourage Sherlock’s explanation. 

“First, and most obvious, the body smells incredibly of gasoline. That indicates that he must’ve been around, and immersed in some sort of automobile. Then, there are flecks of red paint on both his right cheek and right side of his jacket, indicating that he was walking across the street from there,” Sherlock pointed to the other side of the road, “to here. There are no obvious stabs, blunt force object marks, or deep cuts, probably concluding that he inwardly bled to death, supported by the fact that he has some nasty bruises under his clothes. His collar of his jacket is slightly ripped where the driver not-so-gracefully dragged him into the ally. If you handle that delicately, you will most likely find fingerprints. Hit and run.” 

As was usual, everyone let out an exhausted and fascinated breath all at once. Everyone except Donavon. John in particular was trying to focus on the actions of everyone else, but all he wanted to do was grab that terribly expensive coat of his and drag him to the ground right now and take him. He didn’t care who was around. On the contrary, though, John cared quite a lot. He was surprised as his own animalistic instinct to attack Sherlock. Instead, he resorted to looking down at his feet and breathing slowly. He knew Sherlock was staring at him. He could feel his cheeks glowing a bright red. Lestrade cleared his throat. 

“Yes, well, brilliant as always. Thanks.” 

“Is that all? I am of need somewhere else,” Sherlock said, surprising John. 

“Yes, we can take it from here. Thanks again. John.” Lestrade nodded his head in appreciation to Sherlock and then John, even though John didn’t do anything of particular help. Sherlock started walking towards the main road and John followed. Sherlock hadn’t mentioned anything about another case, John thought. He would give him crap for that. Eventually, they stopped a cab and shuffled in. Sherlock told the cabbie, 221b Baker Street. 

“I thought you said someone needed you?” John was sitting beside him with his hand unconsciously too close to Sherlock’s. 

“There is. He just happens to be sitting next to me.” Sherlock grinned and John could feel a rush of blood going south. He smiled back.

“You bastard. Bloody smart bastard.” Sherlock inched his hand on top of John’s, squeezing. “What the hell am I doing?” John asked, for a second starting to question what was going to happen. Everything was quickly spiraling out of his control, and if there was something John hated the most, it was not being in control. 

“You’re finally opening your eyes to what you really want, and that is me,” Sherlock said, matter-of-factly. John closed his eyes and moaned softly. Without thinking, he closed the space between them and started roughly kissing Sherlock. His hands reached his hair and could feel the silky strands snake between his fingers as he explored in Sherlock’s mouth. Before they could continue, though, they heard a thump on the ceiling. 

“Oi! Could you wait two bloody blocks?” The cabbie shouted from the front seat. John and Sherlock glanced at each other, panting hard, and grinning like children. They obliged, though, and waited a grudgingly long five minutes until they pulled up to 221b. They paid the driver more than what was needed and hurried out into the cold and then into the foyer of their apartment building. John couldn’t keep his hands off of Sherlock. They hadn’t made it up the stairs before John pinned Sherlock against the wall and resumed kissing. He wasn’t thinking about anything, whether Mrs. Hudson was in, the fact that the door wasn’t closed, or even that they would eventually have to climb the stairs to get where they wanted. After breathless kisses, John pulled apart from Sherlock, rather ungracefully. 

“I. Want. You.” John wasn’t fully aware that he was taking on full instinctive skills. He knew he enjoyed dominating, but it was so much different with a guy. He needed to prove himself to Sherlock and he thought the only way to do that was to make sure he knew just how manly he actually was. Sherlock’s reply was helpful. He moaned, much louder than he intended, and nodded his head in agreement. They raced up the stairs, threw open the door, and began the rushed process of stripping their clothes all over the floor. When they were naked aside from their socks, they tumbled together, first hitting the end table and knocking down a lamp, and then eventually onto their original target: the sofa. They kept laughed and kissing and it was horribly glorious for both John and Sherlock. 

John straddled Sherlock, matching their movement of hips together for a more pleasurable experience. Just being able to keep someone under him made John quiver with pleasure. He could feel Sherlock’s hard erection against his own, a sensation that he had never experienced. He cursed to himself for never being open before. They began rocking into each other, breathing heavily and occasionally kissing in between rocks. John could feel the wetness of Sherlock on his stomach, a clue that he was getting closer. Of course, it did help to hear the moans coming from Sherlock’s mouth. The sounds alone could take John over the edge. With every thrust, he could feel the familiar sensations of orgasm building low inside of him. He didn’t want to rush this, but he thought it was safe to assume that both he and Sherlock desperately wanted to come together. Right now. 

John picked up the pace, holding Sherlock’s arms against the sofa. Their moans became grunts and they both shut their eyes in concentration. Right before John was going to let go, though, the door flew open, leaving John and Sherlock completely exposed to Mrs. Hudson, who was staring shamefully at the two incredibly naked flatmates. 

“Oh, dear me! So terribly sorry! I thought…” Mrs. Hudson shielded her eyes and allowed for John and Sherlock to scramble and retrieve their clothes. After a few awkward moments of getting clothed, Sherlock was the first to respond. 

“Oh for goodness sake, Mrs. Hudson, you can uncover your eyes now.” John was standing over by the two chairs, looking positively embarrassed and angry. Sherlock seemed indifferent. 

“I heard crashes and…well I thought you might be in trouble,” Mrs. Hudson said with a tint of blush to her cheeks. 

“Yes, well, definitely no trouble here,” Sherlock said, grinning. John sighed loudly and Sherlock gave him a look. “I guess there might be trouble. In John’s opinion.”

“Oh, don’t think that I care! On the contrary, it’s nice to actually see proof. And happiness.” 

“Mrs. Hudson, really, you’re too kind,” Sherlock said. “Now was there anything else you needed?” 

“No, no.”

“Well then, you must go. We have some cleaning up to do.” Mrs. Hudson’s face blushed again as she headed back downstairs. “Oh and Mrs. Hudson, John…we would very much appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone just quite yet.” Sherlock glanced back at John, giving him a wink. Even though John was in no mood to play, he grinned slightly and took the seat next to Sherlock once everything was quiet. Sherlock was the first to talk. 

“It really is not a big deal, John.” John sighed. 

“It’s a big deal to me. I didn’t even know I liked this until no more than four days ago and everything is happening so fast. I don’t know if I want everyone to know. It’s a big deal, Sherlock.” Sherlock put his arm around John, trying to comfort him the best he could. He wasn’t a master at this, at emotions.

“What do you know, John?”

“Huh?”

“What do you know for certain? Right this moment?” John had to think about it. He knew that he was excited about the idea of being with Sherlock as more than a friend and flatemate, but it also scared the shit out of him. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to live without Sherlock, no matter what. It was Sherlock who kept him busy, excited, and heightened, whether that be from cases or from the recent occurrences. He also knew that, looking back, he was never going to love a girl the same way that he loved Sherlock. That was it, he thought. He loved Sherlock. It hit him like a ton of bricks, but he kept it hidden from the outside world. He wanted to save that, just in case Sherlock didn’t expect to hear it. 

“I know that I couldn’t be happier than I am right now. I want to continue…whatever this is, but I’m…scared.” John looked down. He hated emotions. Unlike Sherlock, he knew he had all of them, he just didn’t know how to control or express them.

“And what are you scared of?” 

“That…that people won’t accept us. That they will constantly look at us like we are freaks.” John’s heart was beating loudly in his ears. He could feel his eyes stinging. God damn it, he couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“John, how many times have I told you that it doesn’t matter what people think? Not everyone is going to approve and if it’s what makes you happy why should it matter?” Sherlock was trying, really trying. John couldn’t believe how emotional he could be. He also couldn’t believe that Sherlock had such a motherly side. That made him smile slightly.

“I know Sherlock, but you have to understand how completely and utterly lost I am in all this. Mrs. Hudson walking in on us. That was horrific.” 

“Yes, well hopefully we can just tell the rest of the people. Of all, Mrs. Hudson is most supportive.” John chuckled at that. He had to agree. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if someone like Lestrade or, god, Donavon walked in on them. 

“You’re right. But please, Sherlock, take it slow. Don’t go babbling to everyone you know about this.” At that, Sherlock let out a wonderfully loud laugh. 

“Really, John, you think that I would want people to know. It’s none of their business. Now if it gets out, I don’t care, but I’m not going to tell them.” He planted a kiss on John and stood. John did the same. There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds before Sherlock chimed in. “Would you like to get a bath?” 

“Oh yes, please.” 

John followed Sherlock into the bathroom, already forgetting about his mood and only thinking about one thing.


	7. A Pretty Little Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are sleeping soundly for the first time in a long time. When a smoke bomb is thrown through a broken window, though, they discover a morbid note attached to the bomb. John's shoulder starts acting up and Sherlock demands that they go to the hospital. While there, Lestrade is called in and the three men bicker back and forth about what to do with Moriarty. In the end, Sherlock surprises John with something that he isn't sure is a good or bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are always transition chapters, right? I thought there needed to be some humor along with the threat of Moriarty. And plus, Christmas with the Holmes should definitely be interesting! Sorry for the delay in posting, it's crazy with school! Hope you enjoy!

Sherlock was wrapped around John as they slept in his bed, post sex and sweaty. Sherlock often skipped sleep and John couldn’t always get any, but tonight was a pleasant surprise for both of them. They slept soundly until around seven in the morning when the window shattered and the room started to fill with some sort of smoke. Both John and Sherlock woke up with a start and looked around in confusion. Sherlock jumped up but John started yelling. 

“Bomb, Bomb! It’s a bomb! Take cover, under the hill!” He was sweating and heaving, as though he couldn’t breathe. Sherlock inspected as quickly as he could and once he figured out what was going on, he tried to calm John down. 

“It’s okay, John, it’s just a smoke bomb, a prank. Breathe.” Sherlock looked into John’s eyes, seeing nothing but the depths of his fear from war. He wanted to sympathize with him, but he didn’t know how. He always knew he had these night terrors, screaming in the night and tearing at his sheets, but what could he do? What had he done? Nothing. It made Sherlock’s stomach turn. He was the monster. After a few seconds of breathing and trying to relax, John calmed down. Sherlock knew John wanted to let loose, but deep down he was glad he didn’t. Sherlock was already horrible at emotions and crying would’ve scared the shit out of him. 

“Who the hell throws a smoke bomb through a closed window?” John had gotten up and was now wiping his forehead with a towel. Sherlock got up again and examined the bomb now that the smoke had subsided. When he looked down, his heart leapt. 

“I think I know who.” John spun around in surprise and stared at the scrap of paper that Sherlock was holding. 

“What is it?” John asked. Sherlock swallowed. 

“‘Roses are red, violent acts are too, you can’t hide from everyone, let’s start the game of exposing you.’” John’s eyes grew wide. His pulse quickened and the dried sweat began to shine again. Sherlock, on the other hand, produced a smile that didn’t quite reach ear to ear.

“Why are you smiling, Jesus, Sherlock, you really are a sociopath.” 

“Don’t you see, John? It’s Moriarty and he’s ready to play.” He jumped a little in the air like a child opening presents on Christmas day. John threw his head back and sighed.

“Yes, Sherlock, I see perfectly and if you don’t recall what happened last time he wanted to “play” with you, I’ll gladly remind you.” John’s voice was raising. He was frustrated and scared. He just wanted Sherlock to understand what this meant. 

“That was child’s play. I understand now.” 

“No, you don’t, Sherlock. You always think you do, but you don’t. I’ve lost you once and I’m not going to let that happen again. Not now, Sherlock. Not now.” There was a hitch in John’s voice. His shoulder’s shrugged and he looked so much older in the night light of London. Before Sherlock could say anything, John’s face tightened and he swore under his breath as he grabbed his injured shoulder. He tumbled to the bed and sat quickly. Sherlock ran to him and held onto his arms. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Bloody shoulder. It’s acting up, incredibly so. Ah.” John threw his head back and bit his lip. 

“Does this usually happen?” Sherlock’s eyes were wide, concerned.

“Not to this extent. Dammit!” Sherlock glanced around the room as if something was going to help him fix John. He eventually let out a sigh and looked back at John who was wincing and holding his shoulder. 

“Hospital. Now.” John groaned. 

“No, Sherlock. I’m fine, I just need to get some damn medicine. What’s in the cabinet?” Sherlock could clearly see a new sheen of sweat covering John’s forehead. He wasn’t going to be co-operative with this. Then again, when was he ever co-operative?

“No,” Sherlock said, his face neutral but he eyes filled with something unfamiliar to John. John furrowed his brow and stared at Sherlock. He was surprised.

“I…”

“No, get up. We are taking you to the hospital and you’re going to like it.” Sherlock helped John stand and John wasn’t sure if it was the pain or the odd situation, but he felt a spike of adrenaline and the slightest twitch of his cock. He was…aroused. 

“Shit,” he said under his breath. On the bright side, the adrenaline helped take the pain away. Sherlock was walking in front of John as they descended the stairs, but he never missed anything.

“John, I think we are going to have to explore this. It’s fascinating.” John hadn’t caught on.

“What? My bloody shoulder? I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” Sherlock laughed lightly. 

“No, I mean your attraction to order, dominance.” He glanced back at John and winked. John’s cock reacted positively, but John closed his eyes. 

“Stop that! Not right now.” 

“But the adrenaline is helping with the pain. And we don’t want pain.” John smiled and wanted to question how Sherlock knew that, but there was no point. He knew everything. 

***

At the hospital, John was taken into a room where they took samples of god knows what and left him shivering on the stainless steel table. While waiting, John heard commotion outside the door where, a few seconds later, Sherlock burst through, head turned out yelling at the unlucky soul something like, “Yes, I know, and yet you have no idea what the melting point of copper is.” He then proceeded to shut the door and stare at John. 

“A bit of a tiff with a nurse, I can see.” John waved his good arm towards the general direction of the door. 

“Yes, well, they don’t understand anything. You must be visible to me at all times. Who knows what they could be doing to you.” John sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Jesus, Sherlock. I’m a doctor. I know everything they are doing to me.” Sherlock rolled his eyes in mock imitation. 

“While I agree that you are a suitable and successful doctor, you can never be too sure.” He smiled, then added, “How’s the shoulder?” John started rotating it around in a circle, indicating that it was much better. 

“Now, can we please go?” John said, leaning in a little closer, “because I am bloody horny and I want to shag you into tomorrow.” Sherlock took in a sharp breath and closed his eyes, trying to focus on steadying himself. After a few moments of breathing, he sighed. 

“That’s a brilliant idea, but unfortunately I had to…” Sherlock was interrupted by the door opening, rather loudly, and Lestrade coming in.

“You contacted Lestrade? Why?” John said, giving Sherlock a frustrated look.

“There was a smoke bomb thrown through our window, John. We have to investigate it.” 

“Yes, but you of all people should know that we don’t need Lestrade for this, not right now.” Sherlock smiling viciously.

“Okay, okay. I might’ve been a little too worried about you. Caring. Isn’t that a good thing?” John shook his head and smiled up at Lestrade, trying to act like nothing was wrong.

“So, a smoke bomb?” He said, hands in his pockets. Sherlock stepped in. 

“Yes. And attached was a pretty little message.”

“Well, genius, what did it say?” Sherlock glance over at John who was currently pushing lightly on his shoulder. He nodded his head in agreement. 

“‘Roses are red, violent acts are too, you can’t hide from everyone, let’s start the game of exposing you.’” The room grew silent, much like it had the first time Sherlock read the note. Lestrade had this twisted look on his face like he’d just sucked down a lemon.

“What kind of sick bastard would leave you a note like that?” Both John and Sherlock stared at Lestrade in disbelief. 

“Seriously, George, I don’t know how you became DI.” 

“For pities sake, it’s Greg!” Lestrade threw his hands up. Sherlock whispered under his breath. Lestrade shot a glance at John. “John?” He looked tired. 

“Moriarty, Lestrade. He wants to play another game.” Lestrade covered his mouth with his hand and stroked his chin in agitation. “The body with the “M” on it was no joke. He’s back and he’s really interested in us.” 

“And why would that be?” He was staring at Sherlock who had miraculously shut up and stood against the wall.

“He’s a type of brilliant crazy, Lestrade.”

“A lot of people might say the same for you.” John laughed at Lestrade’s remark. “We obviously can’t have him harass London again. Let’s get on this.” Lestrade slapped John on his good shoulder and headed out the door. He turned back before shutting the door. “Oh, and happy holiday, blokes.” Once he was gone, John and Sherlock didn’t have time to exchange any words before a nurse came in with a clipboard. Sherlock tried to glance over her shoulder, but she was facing away from the wall. 

“Well John, it looks like your injury reacted to some sort of chemical in the air.” John felt his stomach drop. The smoke bomb. “Was there anything unusual in the air? Something you aren’t typically used to?” Sherlock shot a sharp glance at John and he knew what to do.

“No, ma’am. Nothing that I can think of. What exactly was the chemical? That you found?” The nurse glanced down at her clipboard.

“We haven’t been able to locate the specific chemical yet. That’s why if you know where you might’ve experienced this, we can take some samples.” 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t the slightest idea.” The nurse sighed.

“Yes, well, we’ve given you some pain medicine. You’re free to go.” She smiled the typical nurse smile and left the room. When John glanced over at Sherlock, he was deep in frustrated thought. 

“What is it?”

“The chemical. Whatever it was, Moriarty knew it would irritate you. He was messing with us.” John saw a flash of unease fly across Sherlock’s face. “We can’t have you sleeping at Baker Street.” John rolled his eyes. 

“Sherlock, I have to sleep somewhere.” Sherlock was smiling again and John was getting irritable.

“Exactly, and we are very lucky that the holidays are coming up. John, we are taking a trip to the Holmes’ household.” Sherlock’s smile spread from ear to ear.


	8. Holiday at the Holmes'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are spending the holidays at the Holmes'. Mycroft is busy with his techologies and doesn't notice when they sneak out to enjoy each other's alone time. After they get back, though, Sherlock reveals something to his family that John is not ready to accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bring on the Holmes!

John stood in front of the window watching the heavy snow fall. He was holding a warm cup of coffee and trying to listen to the sounds of nature. Instead, he heard the back and forth of the two people he loved to hate. Or was that hate to love? Sherlock and Mycroft sauntered into the room, discussing god knows what.

“Little brother, it is of upmost importance and frankly, there is no reason to tell you. I wouldn’t want it to get out somehow.” Mycroft sipped his tea and sat, cross-legged, on the nearest chair. Sherlock remained standing. 

“Do you think I care, anyway? I have much better things to do than listen to your petty government life.” Mycroft smiled into his cup at Sherlock’s response. Negative reaction and quick insult. He knew Sherlock was annoyed. Both Mycroft and Sherlock stopped talking, trying to focus on something other than themselves. John had stopped staring at the window and was now trying to slowly slip out without being noticed. He failed, of course, when Sherlock glanced his way and his eyes lit up. John loved seeing Sherlock happy, but he didn’t want to get involved in whatever game the brothers were playing now. 

“Ah, John, perfect. Mycroft here seems to think that the Queen’s dog is a mix of corgi and dauch…” Sherlock was interrupted. 

“You and Mycroft are having a row over the Queen’s dogs? Wow, this really must be Christmas.” John laughed and sipped his coffee. Sherlock grimaced.

“Really John, stop being so childish.” John couldn’t feel his mouth drop open until Mycroft pointed to his own chin, indicating for him to close his mouth. John did as he was told. 

“Right, well I’ll leave you two to your petty fights.” John started to leave, but Sherlock jutted out his lower lip and followed John into the hallway, away from Mycroft who seemed preoccupied. John leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He heard no noises and that made him relax. Before he could really get any peace, though, he felt Sherlock’s lean fingers move up his arms and without warning, Sherlock crushed his lips to John’s. It was a hungry kiss, tongue venturing at all corners of his mouth and even though John was surprised, he welcomed Sherlock with a greeting from his cock. John let out a soft groan and slightly pulled away. 

“Sherlock, Mycroft is in the room next to us.” Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. 

“So what? There is a 93.5 percent chance that he already knows.” 

“How do you…never mind, I don’t want to know.” John lifted his hand to Sherlock’s cheek and stroked it. His skin was impossibly soft. There was a wild intent deep within Sherlock’s striking eyes. John could feel his trousers get tighter the longer he stared into his eyes. John remembered to breathe and let out the breath that he had been holding. Sherlock leaned in close to John’s ear and whispered,

“I want you. Right now.” John let out a hiss and knotted his hands in Sherlock’s hair, surrendering to his desires. Sherlock broke them apart this time, slipping back into where Mycroft was sitting. Amazingly, he composed himself and addressed him.

“John and I are going for a walk. Tell Mummy that we will be back before dinner.” Mycroft didn’t look up, but simply waved his hand while his attention was drawn to something so riveting on his phone. At that, Sherlock ran to John, grabbed his hand, and pulled him outside into the shivering cold. 

“Jesus, Sherlock. You could’ve at least let me get a coat. Where are we going anyway?”

“Oh trust me, you won’t need a coat where we are going.” About one hundred yards from the house, Sherlock and John came upon what looked like an old shed, large enough to hold two vehicles. It was made of wood and it seemed distressed, but John trusted Sherlock…usually. When they approached the door, Sherlock bent down and lifted a rock, revealing a key. John rolled his eyes. Sherlock unlocked the door and when he swung the door open, John was flabbergasted. Sherlock was still holding onto John’s hand. 

“What do you think?” John walked further into what appeared to be a mix of a greenhouse in one corner, a small library in another, and in the middle an odd-looking hot tub that steamed over rocks and natural earth as if it had been used the day before. 

“It’s…amazing. What is this, Sherlock?” A smile spread over Sherlock’s eyes as if he was actually proud of something he had accomplished. 

“It was my sanctuary when I was younger. I didn’t create my mind palace until I was out of the house, so I guess you could say this was my original mind palace. Completely mine. No one is allowed in here.” John didn’t know what to take in. He was overwhelmed with this strange feeling of security and heartwarming love. He could feel water filling his eyes, but before Sherlock noticed, he dashed them away. He was being ridiculous. Instead, John tried to deduce Sherlock’s reasoning for creating this atmosphere.

“So, you used the plants for experiments, the books for research, and the hot tub for…relaxation?” John glanced up at Sherlock for reassurance.

“Quite right on all of them, John. You have become quite the observer, love.” John saw Sherlock wink at him and before John could protest, a wave of arousal crashed through him. He was blind sighted with only one goal: Sherlock. John rammed him against the closest wall and started passionately kissing him, exploring his mouth. It was Sherlock’s turn to moan, which he did. John didn’t keep his hands in Sherlock’s hair. Instead, he ran them down Sherlock’s body and over his already-stiff erection. It was tight against his trousers, which John was gladly unzipping to provide relief. 

“I want you. Feel how hard I am for you.” John placed Sherlock’s hand over his own erection, begging to be set free. Sherlock moaned as he stroked John through his trousers. “Take off your clothes and get into the hot tub.” John was giving orders and Sherlock was melting into a pile of pleasure. As Sherlock and John finished taking off their clothes, John realized that Sherlock had been right about not needing a coat. It was warm and steamy in the shack. They sunk into the steaming water and both sighed in relief. The hot water had dulled John’s arousal by a minuscule amount, but it didn’t change what he wanted to do to Sherlock. 

“What do you want, love?” John said, floating in front of Sherlock’s relaxed statuesque body. 

“You. Everything. Now.” Sherlock was practically panting from desire. John thanked the lords that Sherlock’s parents were gone and Mycroft was preoccupied. His much-needed alone time with Sherlock had finally arrived. John dunked his hand under the water until he came upon Sherlock’s throbbing member, waiting for release. John had never done anything in a hot tub before and he was very excited about the prospects. The water was already making it easy to maneuver and the heat made their already flushed bodies even more sexually alert. 

Sherlock was moaning rather loudly as John pleasured him. Every time a sexual noise came out, a spike of arousal shot through John’s lower abdomen area and into his strained cock. He always wanted moments like these to last forever, but in reality he knew they couldn’t. John was beginning to pick up his speed when Sherlock started breathing heavy and began rapidly talking.

“Oh, John. Yes, John. I…I want you inside of me.” His eyes were closed and his head tilted back. At hearing the words, John slowed his pace and started contemplating. Everything he did now-a-days seemed to be linked to making Sherlock happy. He wanted to give him the world. If wanting John’s cock in him was something that he desired, John didn’t want to refuse him. After all, was it really much different than with a woman? John knew the answer, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. 

“Okay…okay yes I will.” At that, Sherlock’s eyes shot open with a mixture of surprise and excitement. 

“Really? You…want to do that? Oh god, John. I…I…” John shushed him and slowly kept stroking his stiff member. Then, he stood and lifted Sherlock up to switch positions with him. Now, John was sitting and Sherlock was floating and straddling over him. 

“Does the…the water work like lubricant. Or?” John looked a little lost, but he was determined and his throbbing length was in full agreement. Sherlock lightly laughed.

“Yes, lubricant doesn’t work well in water. Now John, finger me.” John liked to be the one to give orders, but hearing Sherlock’s voice drop an octave did funny things to his insides. Immediately, he found Sherlock’s opening and slowly, like he had learned before, began moving in and out with one finger. After a while of Sherlock’s moans and encouragement, John had managed three fingers quite smoothly. 

“God, this is so bloody hot, Sherlock.” Sherlock grunted in agreement, pushing away from John’s fingers in the water and now standing over John and his all-too-willing cock.

“I’m going to lower myself onto you, is that okay?” Sherlock looked concerned which made John’s heart ache, but nevertheless he nodded his head and Sherlock began his decent. It all happened quite quickly, even though Sherlock took his time being filled with John. It was a sensation that John wasn’t able to describe. Yes, of course he had had sex plenty of times with women, and even anal with a couple, but this was different. Maybe it was the fact that John was experiencing it with Sherlock, or maybe the fact that it was with another guy. Whatever the reason, John wasn’t going to complain. He let Sherlock lead, moving up and down, splashing the water and holding onto John’s shoulders for support. John could feel the familiar sensation building inside of him. He thought the same must have been for Sherlock, because he was moaning, quite loudly, into the air. John wanted to see Sherlock come while he was inside of him. 

He grabbed Sherlock’s ready cock and began stroking it ever-so-slightly. Sherlock responded well, bucking his hips and making John slide even deeper into him. John let out a moan of pleasure, feeling the tightness of Sherlock and wondering why he hadn’t done this sooner. He picked up the pace with Sherlock until he knew he was about to come. He leaned forward to Sherlock and whispered, 

“I want to come inside of you.” With that, Sherlock started crashing into John, splashing the water all over the ground. John stroked Sherlock until he could no longer keep focus, letting the sensations take over and coming inside of Sherlock. Sherlock followed immediately after, yelling John’s name and rocking one last time. After they had both settled down a bit, Sherlock slowly rose off of John and sat beside him. 

“That was…amazing,” John said, resting his head on Sherlock shoulder. Sherlock hummed in agreement, keeping his eyes shut. John wanted to lay there forever, listening to Sherlock’s ragged breath and the sound of the water lightly splashing. But John knew that was never going to be an option. They heard rustling outside of the shack. 

“What was that?” John asked, sitting up. 

“Oh, probably Mycroft snooping.” Sherlock still had his eyes shut. John laughed, but it was strained. 

“We should get back inside. Your parents will be home soon and I told them I’d help with dinner.” Sherlock opened his eyes to John’s explanation. He had a slight smile on his face. 

“You don’t want to get caught.” 

“No, that’s not what I said.” 

“Oh, John. You are so easy to read.” John let out a frustrated sigh. He kissed Sherlock on his cheek and stepped out of the water, reluctantly. He held out a hand for Sherlock to take, which he did. John stepped back and examined Sherlock’s lean body. He has seen too many bodies to be comfortable with, but John knew he’d never get tired of seeing Sherlock naked. When he turned around to get his clothes, John smacked Sherlock on the butt. Sherlock jumped forward in surprise and turned to glare at John playfully. 

“How dare you!” 

“I couldn’t help myself.” Both John and Sherlock laughed, showing their youthfulness peak through the cracks. John couldn’t be happier and even if Sherlock wouldn’t admit it, he hadn’t known anything more riveting or beautiful than the experiences he’s had with John. After the two dried off, dressed, and finished one last make-out session, they left the shack and headed back to the house for dinner. When they got inside, Sherlock’s mum and dad were already back, getting things prepared. Mycroft was sitting on a stool, still focused on his technologies. Sherlock’s mum immediately stopped what she was doing when she saw Sherlock and John walk through the door. 

“Oh, darlings! I’m so happy you could join us, John. We wouldn’t want to have it any other way.” Mummy hugged Sherlock first and then John. He welcomed it, feeling the warmth and love radiating from her. He never would understand how Sherlock and Mycroft were the products of their parents. “Who would like tea?” John and Mycroft raised their hands. Sherlock slid behind his mummy and stole a cookie while she poured two cups. No one noticed, except for maybe his dad who was standing in the corner smiling. Both John and Mycroft began drinking their tea. 

Sherlock, with a mouth full of cookie, said, “Oh by the way, I’d like to announce that John and I are pursuing a romantic relationship together.” Both John and Mycroft choked and spit their tea. His mum turned around in surprise, but his father still stood in the corner smiling, only a little pink rising in his cheeks. Mummy was the first to break the silence. 

“Oh, Sherlock. John. That’s so wonderful. We started to wonder, didn’t we?” She was addressing Sherlock’s father. He nodded his head and took a sip of his tea. Sherlock was still eating his cookie, oblivious, while John was turning a deep red. His lower lip was slightly covering his upper, much like every time he was trying to stay calm in a tense situation. Sherlock glanced over at him.

“John, are you breathing?” John simply grunted, stood up rather roughly, and left the room. Sherlock, confused, glanced at Mycroft who was trying to clean tea off his suit.

“What did I say?” Mycroft set the handkerchief on the counter and shook his head at Sherlock.

“Oh, you have no idea, little brother.”


	9. A Surprise Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets real with Sherlock and Sherlock is scared from the lack of yelling. Afterward, Christmas arrives and John is still discovering new things about Sherlock that he never knew. When everything is done with Christmas morning, John finds a present hidden deep behind the tree. It's addressed to him and he proceeds to open it. *gasp*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the longer time gap between these chapters! Things got busy and I wasn't able to write/edit as quickly! But it's here and I hope that you guys are ready for more plot and stuff (:

John was sitting at the end of the bed, elbows on knees and head bent into his hands when Sherlock walked through the door. John didn’t move, didn’t say or yell a word. Sherlock was nervous, especially since he realized that he expected John’s yelling and understood that it meant John would always recover. This. This he didn’t like. Sherlock stepped forward cautiously, palms up and out when John glanced up. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face was flushed. Crying? No, there were no blood vessels brightened around John’s pupils. Tried? Possibly, but when was John not tired? Angry? Yes. Exasperated? Definitely. Sherlock was deducting John’s emotions by the second, but if there was one thing he couldn’t understand, it was the unexpected ways in which John would react to everything he did.

Sherlock cocked his head in a way that he knew always made John relax. He wanted to settle him down before diving into a full-fledged rampage. Sherlock always hated John’s temper, not because of the actual anger, but because deep down, Sherlock knew that it was always because of him. Somehow, someway, Sherlock always messed up. He didn’t want to drive John away. Half the time he didn’t even realize he was doing something wrong, which he knew John didn’t understand, but he never had the inclination to tell him. It would’ve just made things worse. 

After a few more awkward minutes of Sherlock staring around the room and John staring at him, John finally sighed and flopped his back down onto the rest of the bed. He stared at the ceiling and then closed his eyes. Sherlock watched in admiration. Everything John did attracted Sherlock. He just had no idea how to handle everything. He let out a quiet breath. 

“John, I didn’t…” He was cut off by John. 

“No. No, please don’t talk. I’m sure it’ll only make things worse.” Sherlock didn’t disagree. John sat up and stared at Sherlock. “I have failed to understand, after so long, how you keep on saying things that are clearly not your business to talk about with other people. You’ve disregarded everything I have talked about with you, personal things. Things that you very well know that I have a hard time talking about in the first place. If your brain had any intellectual tack in it, it would know that what you said out there was probably one of the most idiotic things you have ever said.” Sherlock watched as John’s face turned red. He began shaking, but this time it wasn’t out of anger, but rather something less tangible to grasp. Sherlock remained silent, thinking that it would be better to say silent than to try and agree with him. He understood this time that he had screwed up. He might not understand why John was so upset about the family knowing about the two of them, but he knew better than to question John’s frustration.

“I’m tired Sherlock. I have been through many things with you, most of which I am extremely grateful for, but it baffles me that after defending you and protecting you from those bastards who hate you, you prove them right.” A strong spike ran up Sherlock’s lower abdomen and through his throat. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Like something was blocking he air flow. His eyes began to sting and he couldn’t keep them connected with John’s. He had to grab ahold of the desk beside him to refrain from falling. John’s eyes grew wide as he watched Sherlock’s disintegration. Before he could say anything more, though, Sherlock began to collapse onto the floor. Luckily, John caught him in time. Sherlock didn’t fully faint, but he had a hard time keeping his eyes open and a strong headache began surfacing. 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, are you okay? Please, say something.” John was holding him up, trying to keep him from vomiting. 

“I…I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” Sherlock said, a small hint of a smile forming. John groaned and rolled his eyes. 

“Jesus, Sherlock. Even when you’re medically deficient you still find a way to be a sarcastic ass.” John wasn’t mad anymore. At least, that wasn’t what was on his mind. He was glad Sherlock was okay, but he wasn’t getting off the hook so easily. John helped Sherlock onto his feet and to the bed. They sat there for a good five minutes, not talking. John was rubbing Sherlock’s back with one hand and squeezing his upper thigh with his other. After a few moments, John looked down and noticed a growing bulge under Sherlock’s trousers. 

“Oh, look at that. My blood must be flowing correctly again,” Sherlock said, to which both he and John burst out laughing, rolling onto the bed, intertwined and crying from released tension. 

“You are the most frustrating, spectacular, mysterious creature I have even met,” John said, hooking his leg around Sherlock’s thigh and wrapping his arm around his chest.

“Does this mean you’ll have sex with me again?” John’s mouth turned into an O as he sat up on his elbow and stared at Sherlock with a bemused smile plastered on his face.

“I’m not through with you, because as much as you want to be forgiven for what you just did, I’m not exactly thrilled with the situation.” Sherlock’s brow furrowed a little, but John poked his finger in the middle, making them separate. For a few moments, Sherlock stared down at the sheets, not meeting John’s gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about what I was saying and how it would affect you. I was only thinking about myself.” Sherlock was surprised when John started laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just, I’ve never heard an apology come from your mouth before. At least not a genuine one.” John was smiling now, staring at Sherlock’s child-like pout. Before they could talk much more about the situation, though, they began kissing sensually. Their tongues were intertwining and John had managed to straddle Sherlock. He was holding Sherlock’s arms up by his head, making sure that he had all control. John leaned forward until his mouth was right beside Sherlock’s ear. 

“I am going to punish you for doing this to me. And you’re going to love to hate it.” A shiver ran down Sherlock’s spine, enough so that John noticed it. They both smiled sadistically at each other, but their fantasies were short lived when a knock was heard at the bedroom door. They both rolled their eyes, but luckily they were fully dressed. Sherlock proceeded to open the door to find an awkward Mycroft standing with his hands linked behind his back and red cheeks. 

“Yes, Mycroft?”

“Mummy wants you two to come have dinner. They were, umm, hoping John wasn’t in a sour mood. And they want you to know that nothing has changed. John has nothing to be embarrassed about.” Mycroft’s eyes were staring at the ceiling as if he was trying to remember word for word what their mum had told him to tell Sherlock. 

“We will be there. John is not sour. Not anymore.” Mycroft looked surprised. 

“How you got yourself out of this one, I have no idea.” Sherlock raised a suggestive eyebrow at his brother, making him cringe in disgust. “Never mind. Hurry now, you don’t want to keep Mum waiting.” With that Mycroft left, cane in hand, trying to act like nothing had happened. Sherlock turned around to John and smiled.

“I guess it’s time to face the world,” Sherlock said. 

“It’s just your family, Sherlock.” 

“Exactly.”  
***

Sherlock and John were sleeping in the same bed now that the Holmes knew about their relationship. It was around five o’clock on Christmas morning when Sherlock woke up and rubbed his excited eyes. Like always, Sherlock pushed aside his exhausted body for the excitement of Christmas day. He glanced over at John and stared at his gentle face. His mouth was slightly open, but there was no sign of a nightmare and Sherlock was glad to know that sleeping with him had possibly helped with those. He watched as John’s stomach moved up and down to the rhythm of his breathing. Sherlock could watch John sleep forever, but unfortunately there were much more important things to do today. With a quick smile, Sherlock stood and began jumping on the bed, causing John to startle awake, bouncing up and down on the bed. 

“What the hell, Sherlock?” Sherlock kissed John quickly, jumped off the bed, and ran out of the room and down the hall yelling, “Christmas, Christmas! It’s Christmas. Presents. Alcohol. Family.” He was banging on the doors of Mycroft and his parents. Meanwhile, John sat up watching the whole ordeal, wide-eyed and wondering whether or not Sherlock had finally cracked. Eventually, Sherlock calmed a little as Mycroft walked out in his dressing robe. He stopped by to talk to John. 

“Sorry about that. He feels the need to suddenly become a seven-year-old every Christmas at home,” Mycroft explained. 

“Does he actually get this excited? This isn’t like him at all.”

“We think he just does it to annoy everyone, but he’s never admitted to it being fake.” John rubbed his face.

“Okay, well I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” Mycroft smiled at John’s comment. He nodded and left. John put on a spare dressing robe and headed towards the living room. When he arrived, he saw Sherlock sitting on the floor beside the tree and presents. John rolled his eyes and sat behind him on the couch. The Holmes parents were sitting beside Mycroft on the opposite couch. Everyone looked tired, but content. Mum was the first to talk. 

“It’s so nice to have everyone here for Christmas, especially you John. We are so happy to have you here. With Sherlock.” Her genuine smile made John’s heart ache. Their parents so…normal. Nice. He loved it. 

After a grueling two hours of opening presents and watching Sherlock childishly squeal about the things he received, everyone settled into the calm and relaxing day. Mycroft had been quite excited about an engraved British government pen that he had had his eyes on and Sherlock especially loved his new riding crop, which earned John a red face for a few minutes. 

“Do you two have presents for each other? Isn’t that an expected thing?” Mycroft asked John. 

“We left them at home. But yes, we got each other something.” Mycroft smiled, obviously not deeply interested, and stood to go into the kitchen. His parents followed him. 

“Tea?” Mum asked. 

“Yes, please,” Both John and Sherlock said in unison. When everyone had left except John and Sherlock, they leaned against one another and breathed slowly. John was the first to break the silence.

“You really are something, you know that?” Sherlock stared at John in humorous confusion. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re seriously asking me that? For one, what is this whole Christmas thing about? It’s not like you at all.” Both Sherlock and John laughed lightly. 

“Oh that, I do it because when I was younger and didn’t care much about Christmas, Mycroft bullied me and now I am annoyingly excited just to spite him. Obviously he doesn’t remember and I would rather like to keep it that way.” John nodded in agreement. He wanted to close his eyes but instead he noticed a present tucked far behind the tree, unable to be seen earlier. He got down and retrieved it. Surprisingly, it was meant for him. Sherlock looked down at it and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Is this from you?” John asked.

“No, maybe it was supposed to be a surprise. I say open it now.” John began undoing the wrapping when Sherlock noticed something odd about the wrapping paper. It had a rippling effect as if it were a pool, with a pair of shoes drawn on the top left corner. In a moment of recognition, Sherlock tried to stop John from opening the rest, but he was too late. Sherlock tackled John as he finished opening the box, causing a small explosion that threw both Sherlock and John against the far wall. Smoke quickly filled the room as Sherlock covered John and both of them were covered in plaster and ash. Mycroft and their parents tried to make their way into the room, yelling for Sherlock and John. Sherlock wasn’t moving but John was trying to get out. 

“Don’t come in. There’s too much smoke. I’ll get us out,” John said. They listened and went out into the yard to wait. Meanwhile, John pulled himself out of the rubble and, once the smoke subsided, lifted a groggy Sherlock out of the room and into the kitchen. Sherlock sat down, eyes shut in pain while John went into full-on doctor mode. 

“What hurts? Do you feel faint? Does anything burn?” 

“John.”

“I have ointment. Are any of your limbs numb?”

“John.”

“You might be in shock. We have to check you for any broken bones.”

“John!” John finally stopped talking. Sherlock had opened his eyes by now and seemed calm. 

“My ankle is a little sore and I believe I have a few scratches.” Sherlock smiled, trying to calm John down. John stared at him, eventually sighing. 

“Thank you,” he said, kissing Sherlock on the cheek. Sherlock blushed. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up and make sure you’re family hasn’t had a heart attack.” John bent down and lifted Sherlock’s ankle in the air. He saw Sherlock wince when he touched it. 

“Looks like you twisted your ankle. Nothing major, but I’m going to need to wrap it.” Sherlock rolled his eyes in frustration. 

“Why must the bad guys always harm but never kill? It’s so unprofessional.” 

“So, you’d rather be dead and admit that the bad guys were actually skilled.” Sherlock grimaced at John’s retort. At the moment, John didn’t have anything to wrap Sherlock’s ankle with, but he proceeded to check for potentially infected scratches or cuts. He found none. After he was done, he grabbed a bag of ice wrapped with a towel and handed it to Sherlock. 

“Here, keep this on your ankle for a little while and you should be good until I can get you a wrap.” Sherlock did as he was told. There was still smoke hanging at the ceiling, but it was safe enough for Mycroft, Mum, and their father to come back in to check on both John and Sherlock. Mum went immediately to the two men. 

“Oh my, what happened?” 

“There was an extra present addressed to me. It was a bomb.” Mums eyes grew round as Mycroft tried to sooth her. Sherlock tried to stand, but his ankle was too swollen and sore. John wrapped one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulders.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to take Sherlock to our room so I can fix him.” John smiled at all three of the Holmes. 

“Certainly. I’m so sorry about all this. We have no idea who would do this.” Sherlock and John glanced at each other and walked back to the bedroom. When they got there, Sherlock sat on the bed and John sat beside him. 

“I don’t understand,” Sherlock said. 

“About what? It was a bomb. Obviously Moriarty wants us dead. Then again, when hasn’t he?” Sherlock’s brows creased.

“But that’s just it. Moriarty, if he is still just as insane as before, wouldn’t simply kill us. He’s sadistic. He usually wants to play a game. Why now? Why does he suddenly have an urge to get rid of us so quickly?” John thought about what Sherlock was saying. He was right. Moriarty purposefully wanted to play the game. He was a cat to the mouse. 

“Maybe he changed his mind. Or lost it.” Sherlock laughed at that. 

“I think that was already lost. No, it’s something else. He couldn’t assume I would save you. That’s too risky. Unless he thought that getting rid of you would make me even more vengeful and wish to play the game. Especially since he knows about our relationship.” Sherlock started to slip into his mind palace and John didn’t want to distract him, but truthfully John could care less about Moriarty or the bomb or anything really. All he cared about at this moment was the fact that Sherlock was okay. He saved John and John couldn’t think what he would do if he would’ve been the reason of Sherlock’s death. Familiar dread began creeping up John’s stomach and into his throat. He recognized the symptoms of a panic attack from the army. Before he could fully lose himself, though, Sherlock grabbed a hold of his arms and lightly shook him.

“John, calm down. Nothing is going to happen as long as you’re here with me. After all, you’re a doctor and heaven knows I always need a doctor.” Sherlock’s voice was soothing John. He could do this. “Without you, I would be nothing.” John laughed at that. 

“You are incredibly smart and observant Sherlock. Sometimes I forget you’re human.” 

“Exactly. Everyone hates me except you. Of course I don’t care, but you make them see a better side of me. Now perk up. We have a Moriarty to catch.”


	10. What Would I Do Without You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John head back to 221b in order to further their investigation of Moriarty. They both need a stress relief, though, which is exactly what they get. Oh, and Lestrade comes in at some point with important information and blah blah blah. (:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! It has been FOREVER since I posted in this story. Let me tell you guys, I am truly sorry for leaving you hanging for so long. Life gets in the way, you know? But I'm back and I am really excited to finally finish this wonderful story! Please check back and expect more from me in the coming weeks!

John and Sherlock had said goodbye to everyone on Christmas day, much to Mum’s dismay, but they assured her that they wouldn’t be gone forever and that they needed to figure out what was going on without causing harm to anyone else. John had a fleeting thought that if Moriarty didn’t want anyone else to get hurt, he wouldn’t allow it. Then again, it was Moriarty and he was anything but sane.

On the way home, Sherlock constantly complained about his twisted ankle. John rolled his eyes often, but he couldn’t help but make sure he was okay. When they were almost back to Baker Street, their conversation veered to the case ahead of them.

“This has gotten out of hand. We can’t keep letting these things happen. It’s not like us,” John said, arm around Sherlock, lightly massaging his shoulder. 

“While I agree with you, we also have to understand what it is that Moriarty actually wants. He’s changed, we can all attest to that.”

“So, are we going to go to Lestrade about this?” Sherlock laughed at John’s question.

“Of course not! We’ve no time for the police at the moment.”

“What if something happens? We can’t…” Sherlock interrupted John.

“Yes, yes, I know. We can’t be stupid. If it’ll make you happy, we have to stop by Scotland Yard anyway.”

“Why?” The cab pulled up to Baker Street and Sherlock got out without answering John’s question. They hurried inside out of the whipping wind and John asked again, “Why?”

“Because, John, we must confess our unconditional love to everyone on force. They must know.” John stopped dead on the stairs. 

“To hell if you think I’ll do that.” Sherlock laughed. 

“My dearest John, I believe you’re losing your touch. I thought I coated that sentence in as much sarcasm as I could muster.” John’s cheeks and ears started turning red. It was true, how could he not have detected the sarcasm. He tried to laugh, but instead let out a choked cat sound. Once both Sherlock and John were inside their flat, Sherlock immediately went to John’s computer, intent on doing as much research as possible. John sighed, knowing that Sherlock probably still wasn’t used to the relationship that centered on both of them, instead of simply him. John didn’t want to fight, though, so he left Sherlock to explore while he headed upstairs to his (old) bedroom. 

Once inside, John let his fingers skim the tangible things throughout the room. The soft sheets, the wood dresser, the bedframe itself. Even though John had moved most of his stuff down to Sherlock’s room, he got a tingling sensation every time he decided to come back up to his. After all, it was the room where this all started. John thought back to that night when Sherlock walked in on him masturbating with Sarah on the computer. At the time, it was horrific. He couldn’t think of something worse. But now. Now John couldn’t be happier, except of course for the simple fact that Moriarty is back and they must figure out how to stop him for a second time. John didn’t want to think about it, though. As far as he was concerned, Sherlock was busy downstairs researching ways to destroy the man. He needed time to relax, to think. He didn’t want anything horrible happening to Sherlock. John wouldn’t know what to do if Sherlock left. He knew that feeling all too well. As John stood staring out the window in a sort of trance, he felt arms wrap around him. John’s first instinct was to fight, but then he quickly realized that it was affection coming from Sherlock, not an enemy. 

“Hello, love,” John said, slowly turning around yet still engulfed in the hug. Sherlock hummed, leading John to the bed. John could already feel himself getting hard. 

“All of this excitement, it’s getting me excited,” Sherlock said, laying John down on his back and slowly unbuttoning his pants. John chuckled.

“Oh Sherlock, I can’t resist you.”

“I can tell you’re stressed. You’re tense from the Christmas trip. I know, but everything will be okay. Let me help you.” Sherlock worked his magic, gracefully pulling John’s trousers down and throwing them to the floor in a heap. John’s bulge was noticeable and ready for Sherlock, like it always was. With experienced hands, Sherlock threw the pants away and immediately started stroking John’s cock. The sensation was spectacular for John. Sherlock was right, John needed the stress reliever. Sherlock kept stroking at an even pace, surprising John by licking his tip. John moaned and threw his head back, arching his back. 

“I love pleasuring you, John. Do you know how much you turn me on?” John made an attempt at a response, but he was too far gone to make any sense. Before Sherlock totally make John explode, he let go and climbed on top of him, sitting almost on top of John’s chest. John snapped out of his fantasy. 

“Wha…” Sherlock placed a finger on John’s mouth, silencing him. He grabbed John’s hand and placed it on Sherlock’s obvious erection begging to break free. 

“Feel me, John. See what you do to me.” John moaned again, rubbing his hand up and down Sherlock’s impressive cock. “I want you to come while you feel me.” John obliged and began rubbing harder. His cock grew again, aching for release. His moans became more frequent, all the while Sherlock was watching John breakdown. He knew John needed a release, a large one. Sherlock wanted John to relax and focus on feeling. As the rubs got faster, so did John’s breathe, his thrusts, and his moans. Sherlock leaned down by John’s ear and whispered, 

“Come for me, John.” A few seconds later, John came onto his stomach, legs, and Sherlock’s back. When he came back to reality, he watched as Sherlock kept his eyes closed and breathed deeply. John couldn’t explain it, but tears filled his eyes, a single droplet falling out and into his ear. The sensation of coming while Sherlock on top of him combined with the thick tension building for the past two days, it was too much for John. His release was more than just physical. Sherlock, eyes now open, noticed John’s silent cries, immediately climbing off him and rubbing John’s arm.

“Oh, my dear John. This is exciting, I promise,” Sherlock said, not understanding John’s tears. He sniffed and tried to look away, embarrassed. 

“It’s not that Sherlock. It’s just that…everything that’s happened…I couldn’t bare losing you. I’m worried and overwhelmed and passionate. It’s all hitting me at once.” John couldn’t help but let everything go. Sherlock sat back and examined John. His heart melted every time something discomforted John, but as much as he wanted to fix things, he knew there was only so much he could do. It was true, all of this was dangerous, but that was all the more reason for John to pursue it. 

“You know as well as I do that this is finally our opportunity to finish Moriarty, once and for all. Yes, it’s nerve-wracking, but where’s my dangerous John I know so well? The John that craves adventure?” Sherlock smiled at John, trying to lighten the mood. He wanted…needed John on board in order to move forward. John sat up, eyes almost dry. He gave Sherlock a small smile. 

“He’s right here, love.”

“Good, because I thought I was making you soft or something.” John laughed at Sherlock’s absurd comment. 

“You think that in a million years you would be the one to make me soft? That’s impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible, John.”

“Except for the earth to orbit around the sun, yeah?” With that, Sherlock playfully punched John’s arm. The mood was officially lightened. Sherlock was getting off the bed, about to head down the stairs, when John caught his arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” John asked, still naked on the bed. Sherlock was confused, looking from the door to John. 

“I was…”

“No, you never got to finish and I am nothing if not thorough, Sherlock, you know that.” John winked at Sherlock. John watched at Sherlock grew hard, right in front of him. John pulled him back to the bed and laid him down on his back, fully exposed. He leaned in and whispered in Sherlock’s ear, “What would you like me to do to you?” Sherlock shivered, goosebumps forming on his arms and legs. Sherlock wasn’t sure what he wanted. Everything, that’s what he wanted. But realistically, that was impossible all at once. 

“Suck me off, John, I want to watch.” This was Sherlock’s answer. He was desperate to see John pleasured while pleasuring him. At the moment of his decision, Sherlock watched as John already began hardening, so fast. 

“Done,” John said, immediately grabbing Sherlock by the cock and mercilessly handling him with expert hands. Sherlock moaning in response, not ready for the immediate pleasure shooting through his lower body. How could one man do this?

“Mmm, you’ve gotten so…ahh…good in such a short time,” Sherlock tried to say while John took his length in his mouth. His tongue swirled around and around the tip, licking hard at the protrusion. It was too much for Sherlock. As much as Sherlock wanted to say he wasn’t fazed by the bomb, he was. He put on a front, but John was slowly destroying it. He knew what Sherlock wanted, knew when he needed a release as well. John was increasing his strokes. His slick hand twisted up and down, moving with his tongue and mouth in a spectacular way. Sherlock couldn’t take it much longer. Simply watching John’s head bob up and down was enough for Sherlock to explode. His moans filled the room, echoing off the now-empty walls. He ached his back, an invitation for John to finish his lover. The sensation in Sherlock’s lower abdomen grew until he couldn’t take it anymore. He came hard into John’s mouth. John kept still, waiting for Sherlock to fully calm down. When he was satisfied, he drew away and swallowed every last drop. Sherlock would always be amazed. While both of them came down from their highs, there was a knock at the door. 

“Dammit,” John said, smirking at Sherlock. “We aren’t engaging in any sexual activity at the moment so I’m allowed to curse.” Sherlock and John put their clothes on as quickly as possible and headed for the door. When they opened it, Lestrade was standing there, an annoyed yet anxious look on his face. 

“How long does it take for a bloke to answer the door?” Sherlock and John were thinking the same thing, but Lestrade had no idea. 

“What do you have for us, Lestrade?”

“Well, for starters we received an…interesting letter today, addressed to you two.” Sherlock and John shared a glance. John was the first to speak.

“Where’s the letter?”

“Back at the Yard. We want you guys to come by.” John nodded and when he glanced over at Sherlock, he was sure he saw a sparkle in his eyes, as if to say, “Moriarty, here we come.”


	11. An Unexpected Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John make their way to the Yard to find out what the contents of the letter are. Unknowing to them, they are about to find out more than they bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I realize it has been way too long, almost impossibly long since I added a chapter to this story, but all of a sudden the other day I decided that I wanted to keep writing. I'm getting closer and closer to the end and for the people who have been reading it since the beginning, I thank you with all my heart for still reading it!

When John and Sherlock arrived at Scotland Yard, there was an odd sense of distraction among the team. Lestrade hadn’t said anything on the way over in the cab, which John thought was unusual, especially since they were dealing with Moriarty. They followed him to the lab where Anderson and Donovan were whispering and Molly was busy looking into the microscope. When Lestrade, Sherlock, and John entered the room, the atmosphere grew stale. There was a cynical smirk on Donovan’s face and Sherlock noticed Molly’s eyes rimmed with red. Both Sherlock and John were confused. 

“So, where’s the letter?” Sherlock asked, obviously wanting to start pursuing this case. Donovan was the first to speak.

“We have already gone over it. Obviously Moriarty wanted to show us something important before you two found out.” Sherlock ignored her and glanced to Lestrade. John had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Jesus, Lestrade, what the hell is going on?” Lestrade couldn’t look up, his cheeks growing red. Donovan rolled her eyes and retrieved the letter. 

“Looks like you guys were enjoying your night. Too bad Moriarty was enjoying as well.” She handed the letter to John, an odd gesture. In the back of his mind, he had already know what he was going to see in this letter. When he glanced down, there was a blown up picture of Sherlock and John facing each other in close proximity, Sherlock’s hand cupping John’s cheek, a loving look on both of their faces. John couldn’t believe it. He felt violated, disturbed, but also amazed. The picture had portrayed their emotions perfectly, a mixture of longing and excitement and love. Either way, though, John and Sherlock were now exposed and the large M signed at the bottom no doubt gave away Moriarty. This was a cruel game. 

“Welcome to the real world, love birds. I’m glad you’ve finally found yourselves,” Donovan said, practically spitting the words in their faces. John felt the strong urge to punch her, but that wouldn’t help their cause. 

“Yes, yes, all is well. So, how is this helping us with Moriarty?” Sherlock said, glancing from face to face. He paused when he saw John’s, as if to says, “don’t worry, I’ll distract them.” Lestrade took the letter from John, reading over it one last time. 

“We thought you might be able to find some information hidden in the letter. Moriarty is a game-player, obviously, so he wants you to figure something out.” Sherlock snatched the letter and glanced over it. Flipping the paper a couple times. He was frustrated. 

“It’s nothing like Moriarty used to do. He would’ve left a more promising clue, even if to distract me, but there’s nothing here.” He threw the letter on the ground, leaving John to pick it up. The picture lie face-up for everyone to see. 

“Well this have definitely been enough surprises for one day. This git can’t seem to deduce anything anymore. Maybe it has something to do with his fun fling,” Donovan said, preparing to leave. Sherlock was fed up. He ran straight for her, standing but a few inches from her lowered face. 

“This is none of your business and if I hear you disrespecting John one more time, I will guarantee you won’t be coming into work tomorrow.” John felt a tug in his lower abdomen. Sherlock was standing up for him and he loved it. Donovan tried to hide her surprise, but Sherlock saw through her, like everyone else. She left without another word. In fact, everyone cleared the room, maybe because they didn’t want to deal with Sherlock or maybe because the awkward tension in the air was too much. Either way, once everyone was gone, Molly being the last to leave, John could feel his legs begin to give out. He tried to hold onto the examining table, but his hands were too slick to grip anything. He took the letter down with him when he fell. Sherlock rushed over to him. 

“John, what’s wrong?” Sherlock moved his hands over John without actually touching him. Inwardly, John laughed at the thought of Sherlock ever being a doctor. The truth was, John could stand and leave with whatever dignity he had left, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to lay on the cold, hard floor and let everything go away. He knew he was being dramatic. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. So what, everyone knew about him and Sherlock. Hell, it could’ve been a lot worse. Moriarty could’ve taken a shot of them shagging. John shuddered at the thought. Before John could reply to Sherlock’s inquiries, an unexpected rage began to build within him. Suddenly, John spang up to his feet, grabbed the letter from the ground, and began ripping the evidence to shreds. 

“What are you doing, John?” Sherlock asked, although he wasn’t rushing to stop him. He knew the Yard would’ve already taken dozens of pictures. And even if they hadn’t, Sherlock filed it away in his mind palace. 

“If Moriarty wants a game, I’ll give him a damn game.” John let all the pieces fall to the floor. Sherlock didn’t understand John’s logic. If he was wanting to play the game, John must know that Moriarty wanted him to react this way. Why else would he expose them? John noticed Sherlock’s calculating look. 

“Sherlock, I know this is what he wants. Yes, I’m pissed. What does Moriarty thrive on the most? Riddles, games, expectations. We once tried to be one step ahead of him. This time, I say we confront him head on. That letter told us where we could meet him. I don’t think it’s a trap. I think he really wants to meet. God knows what will happen after, but I don’t care anymore.” Sherlock was so caught up in the fact that John was making excellent deductions, that he forgot to take normal breaths. John was completely right. Even though Moriarty seemed different, nothing could change the way he thrived on playing a game. 

“So what’s the plan?” Sherlock asked. John looked taken aback.

“What do you mean? I don’t usually make the plan?” Sherlock smiled. Oh, he naive, sweet John. 

“I know that, love, but you obviously have a plan and I would love to hear it.” John was still surprised, but as much as he has gone through with Sherlock recently, nothing should’ve surprised him. Sherlock had emotions, ones that John never knew existed and he was one of the closest people to him, even before their spontaneous affair. 

“Well,” John said, “for starters, I would like to pleasure you on this table sometime. Your skin would look lovely with gooseflesh all over it, laying on the stainless steel. But besides that, Moriarty wants to meet us at Ransomes Dock at Battersea tonight. Why not? We could inform Lestrade for extra backup. There’s a reason he wants us around again. I’m not sure what it is and I’m not excited to find out, but if we don’t do something soon, we could end up like the first time around. And hell if I’m going to let that happen again.” John’s voice caught for the last part of his explanation. He never liked to think about Sherlock’s forced suicide, but he also realized that, in hindsight, it brought Sherlock and John closer together. 

At that moment, just when John was on to something, Donovan sauntered through the door, trailed by Lestrade who looked extremely uncomfortable. 

“Uh, we forgot to tell you our plan,” Lestrade said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“We contemplated not coming in here, thinking you might fancy a shag with one another,” Donovan said, not knowing when to keep her mouth shut. John’s face grew red and he clenched his fists together, which Sherlock did not like. He didn’t want John to have to go through this like that. Donovan went on. 

“So tell me, who’s on top?” It all happened in slow motion. One moment everything was as normal as expected and the next, John was trying to pull Sherlock off of Donovan who was now pinned to the floor while Sherlock pummeled her. As much as John wished he didn’t have to hold Sherlock back, the latter choice wasn’t a good idea. He’d never seen Sherlock act like this. Then again, he’d never seen Sherlock do a lot of things he’d done in the last week or so. In the end, John was able to pull him off and restrain him long enough for Lestrade to grab Donovan and pull her to her feet. She had a bloody lip, a cut up the side of her right eye, and her right eye was beginning to swell. She looked terrible and it took all the discipline John had not to laugh in her face.

“Jesus, Donovan. I’m not saying it’s right but maybe sometimes you should keep your mouth shut,” Lestrade was saying as they left the room once again. Once John felt they were far enough away, he let go of Sherlock, all except his bloodied hand. John sat him down at a nearby chair and got to work on his hand in silence. After a few moments of not talking, John broke the silence. 

“I didn’t know you had such a good side swipe.” Sherlock laughed, then winced at the sting from the alcohol. 

“And I didn’t know I could hate someone as much as I do Donovan. I don’t want these emotions anymore,” Sherlock said as John finished up with his hand. 

“You can’t pick and choose them, love. If you don’t want anger, you don’t get love, or lust.” John winked at Sherlock and kissed his knuckles lightly before letting go. “Thank you, by the way. No one has ever done something like that for me.”

Sherlock waved his hand. “Oh, it was simply a physical reaction to the stupidity of a person like Donovan. But, you’re welcome. I would do it a thousand times over if it meant I didn’t have to see the hurt on your face.” Again, John was amazed at Sherlock’s new-found ability with emotional words. Sherlock might never know what they did to John, but they meant the world to John. Sherlock meant the world to John. 

John stood up, helping Sherlock to his feet. 

“Well, I think we have a game to play,” John said, taking Sherlock’s good hand in his. 

“And a fascinating game it will be,” Sherlock said, kissing the back of John’s hand.


	12. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are prepared to meet Moriarty for the first time in a long time. But not everything is as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting serious!

That night, John and Sherlock made their way through the streets of London on their way to the docks that the letter specified. Even though John was always the most calm in dangerous situations, the fear of losing Sherlock to the lunatic was overwhelming. It was six in the evening and the light was beginning to fade on the horizon. Sherlock was busy checking his phone every five seconds, making sure he wasn’t going to get a text or call from Moriarty saying that we were tricked or something of that sort. He didn’t believe this was a trick, or at least it didn’t seem like something Moriarty would do. It was too boring, too predictable. 

The chill in the air began swarming around them in the evening wind. John wrapped his arms around himself.

“Cold?” Sherlock asked. 

“Just a bit, nothing I can’t handle,” John said, following Sherlock, hoping he knew where he was going. Sherlock gave John a smirk. 

“Oh I know what you can handle, John.” John could feel his cheeks grow hot. 

“Oh shut it, this is a serious mission.” Sherlock simply nodded his head. Surely Sherlock deduced by now just how nervous John actually was. John swore to himself that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Sherlock, no matter what. They were close, John knew that. He could smell the rancid fish and hear the water quietly crashing into the stones of the dock. Before John could move forward, however, Sherlock pulled him into a small, dark alley to the left of the sidewalk. 

“What in the bloody hell…” John tried to question Sherlock but he didn’t get the chance to finish. Sherlock was crushing his lips to John’s, his hands twisting and tugging at John’s hair, practically pushing him to the ground. At first John was trying to pull away, but not many things could keep him from enjoying a snog, not even dark alleys and murderous lunatics. The erection was already full when Sherlock let go. He kept one hand on John’s cheek, though. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me, John?” John had to take a couple seconds to calm down. 

“I know what you do to me, and I don’t think we are far off from each other.” They stared at each other for awhile, John didn’t know how long. By the time Sherlock let go of John and straightened, the light was almost gone. They both relaxed and headed back into the street. John had a nagging feeling coming from the pit of his stomach. He knew that kind of passion didn’t always come from nowhere. Was Sherlock worried something might happen tonight? To hell is John was going to let Sherlock try and sacrifice himself for John. He began to open his mouth to talk to Sherlock when Sherlock froze and lowered himself ever so slightly. He placed an extended arm in front of John, as if to tell him to stop walking. 

“I think he’s up there, hiding behind the barrels,” Sherlock said, pointing at the movement of shadows about 100 yards away from where they were standing. Once again, John opened his mouth in order to say something when he was interrupted, but this time it wasn’t Sherlock who interrupted John. 

“Wrong again. My, my, my, you’ve lost your touch.” Both John and Sherlock whirled around to see a figure dressed in an all black suit with a hood covering his face. He was holding a gun in his left hand.

“You’re the one who’s wrong, Moriarty. You like to play games, well here we are,” John said, stepping forward with as much fearlessness as he could muster. Sherlock on the other hand was deducing. Something wasn’t right. It took him less than ten seconds to realize a crucial mistake they had made. 

“No,” Sherlock whispered, almost to himself. John glanced over at him, then was interrupted by the hooded figure. 

“Oh yes, you’ve finally figured it out.” The man took his hood off to reveal a plastic mask of Moriarty’s face. John was taken aback. 

“Wait. You’re not Moriarty? Who in the bloody hell are you?” John shouted. 

“Why don’t you catch me and maybe you’ll find out,” the man said, then ran. Sherlock began to run after him, but John caught his arm. 

“Sherlock, he wants us to follow him.” There was a light in Sherlock’s eye that John remembers only once before. He was obsessed. This man who had actually convinced both John and Sherlock that he was Moriarty was Sherlock’s new obsession. John almost felt hurt, a tinge of jealousy ran through him. 

“We have to find him. There’s no other way,” Sherlock said, beginning to run again. John cursed under his breath and ran after Sherlock.

Sherlock yelled at John as they were running. “You keep running north towards the old automobile warehouse. I’m going to go east and cut over through the park. I think I know where he’s going.” John followed his directions even though he had no idea what in the hell he would do if he encountered the Moriarty impostor first.

John kept running and running, he had no idea what he was doing. His breath was almost non-existent and he didn’t even have Sherlock beside him to calm him down. He passed warehouses and boarded up buildings and alleyways, but nothing else was on his mind except Sherlock. What if something happened? That genius git could take on too much, too quickly. John swore under his breath again.

“Goddammit, Sherlock. I swear if you get hurt, I’ll never forget you.” Just as John was rounding a corner, he heard a whistle and laugh. 

“Over here you incompetent fool.” John stopped dead in his tracks. The masked man was standing with his gun point blank at John, as if he knew John would be there, alone. he kept talking. “You know, I thought it would be harder, to be honest. You two were so hyped up, ‘the Holmes and Watson team of crime-fighters.’ Well I guess I shouldn’t have expected much more. You’re holding him back, you know?” 

“Who are you?” John asked. His hands weren’t shaking anymore. His breath was under control. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, which almost made John cry from relief. The man laughed at him. 

“You’re gullible, John. Human. You stole Sherlock away from his glory. Look at him now, using emotions and forgetting things. Not deducing like he should be. You’re ruining him.”

“Excuse me?” John was trying to stall.

“He was supposed to be the great mastermind. He was doing so well, until you came along. I couldn’t even get him to see my masterpieces once you had your fingers around his cock.” The man nearly spit the last words. John was shocked. How had he known. They thought he was Moriarty and while there were many clues to prove he was, he obviously was an impostor. Was he an inspiring mastermind lunatic? John wouldn’t put it past someone to do that, however it was a little unlikely that there would be two in the same city. John had to stop him, though, God knew how. 

“So, you’re a wannabe, is that it? You’re so jealous of me and Sherlock that you would go to great lengths to stop us?” The man smiled. 

“You’re not as dumb as I had originally imagined. However, you still don’t get it.”

“Enlighten me,” John said, standing straight. He wasn’t going to back down. 

“How did it feel to get shot in your shoulder in Afghanistan? Did you remember the tearing of muscle, the fiery pain of the bullet ripping flesh? Oh how I wish it was me who got to shoot you. Oh wait, it is.” Before John could respond, he heard the familiar shot of a gun ripping through the air. The bullet hit point blank in John’s bad shoulder. the badly scarred tissue and scars from healing were altogether ripped apart. A searing white pain washed over John, much worse than the original gunshot felt in war. He fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder, as if that was going to make a difference. The man sauntered over the John, looking down at him, laughing. 

“He could’ve done so much better,” he said, before disappearing out of John’s view, which was becoming increasingly blurry as the seconds went on.

On the other side of the building, Sherlock had heard the gunshot, terrified to know who it was who was shot and furious with himself for suggesting they split up. Sherlock ran into the opening between the buildings where he saw John writhing in pain and no one else in sight.

“John,” he yelled and ran to him. John’s shoulder was torn open, the once scarred tissue that had bothered John on many occasions was ripped open, revealing newly damaged flesh. John’s eyes were squeezed shut, a heavy sweat was breaking out on his face. 

“Help,” was all John could say before he passed out.

**Author's Note:**

> I will be posting chapter by chapter. Keep checking back for more chapters as I will try my best to post them as quick as possible!


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